A Midnight Dance

by Lila DiPasqua

  And now her former infatuation was the leader of these scoundrels. It shouldn’t surprise her. Further proof of his unsavory character.

  “If he recognizes us, we are dead. What do we do, Sabine?” Robert asked.

  Sabine looked at Robert’s young face. He and his brother had rarely attended her father’s plays. He actually believed Jules had noticed him the handful of times he’d ridden past while traveling to and from the Moutiers’ neighboring country estate.

  “He won’t recognize us,” she assured him. He’d always looked right through her at the theater. And the incident with the slipper had been significant only to her. He’d never remember it. “He wouldn’t know us from other lowly commoners. We are going to proceed as planned.” They were going to steal the silver. From a Moutier.

  Oh, this was going to be sweet.

  She’d show him as much mercy as his family had shown to hers.

  Sabine marched up to him and his men, her cousins quick on her heels.

  “Good evening,” she said with a smile.

  He turned his head, his gorgeous dark eyes locking with hers. A thrill shivered down her spine. She held her smile, irked by yet another physical response he effortlessly inspired.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  Say something provocative.

  “ ’Tis a beautiful night. The stars are bright. A perfect eve for one’s delight. No?”

  Jules and the blond man exchanged curious glances. A few of the men chuckled. Mentally she cringed.

  Whores did not recite poetry.

  Not even bad poetry.

  You’ll cease behaving like a fool, and start behaving like a prostitute. She wasn’t completely ignorant on the matter. Far too curious for their own good, she and Isabelle had often spied upon the patrons at the theater. She’d overheard sexually explicit conversations between lovers in dark corners, and between whores and their customers in the alley outside.

  Focus.

  Sabine clasped her hands behind her back and pulled her shoulders back a little, a casual pose that also helped emphasize her breasts—and she needed all the help she could get there.

  She was delighted when his gaze dropped to her breasts, knowing they were more visible with her top fastenings undone.

  “What say you, my handsome lord? Shall we dismiss these gentlemen?”

  He studied her for a moment. She forced herself to stand still and not fidget under the weight of his scrutiny. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side. “Have we met before?”

  One of her cousins choked on a cough. His response unbalanced her briefly.

  She pushed back the apprehension. “I think not. You would be one man a woman wouldn’t easily forget. And I”—she paused for dramatic effect—“leave a lasting impression.”

  Male hoots filled the air.

  She was pleased with herself. And the double entendre. She would leave a lasting impression on him. Just not one he’d like.

  Jules simply arched an eyebrow. “What is your name?”

  “Elise.”

  “Well, Elise, about your offer, I wish to—”

  Sensing the impending rejection, she stepped closer to him, suddenly enveloped by his scent—rugged, masculine, and all too appealing. She tried to ignore it.

  “To accept?” she prompted.

  He frowned and rested his hands on his hips. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

  “What a shame. I think you should reconsider.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m willing to wager you give a woman a tumble as good as you look.”

  Again, male hoots rippled through the small group of his men.

  “Commander, she is hot for you!” one guard said.

  “If you don’t want her, I’ll take her,” Fabrice suggested.

  Her stomach clenched. God help her if he gave her away to the others. It was something she had to prevent at all cost.

  Ignoring his men and her compliment, his expression remained unchanged. “That doesn’t give me reason to have you.”

  “Ah, but you see, your appeal inspires me.” She rose up onto the balls of her feet and leaned close to his ear. His proximity sent her nerve endings into a frenzy. In as sultry a whisper as she could muster, she said, “I am well worth your time when I am . . . fully inspired.”

  She dropped back down onto her heels and looked into his eyes. Arousal flared in their dark depths, sending a hot jolt through her system. She fought against it, refusing to let these annoying physical responses distract her. By God, she would best him. And exact a little bit of revenge on a Moutier, to boot. She’d be the victor.

  She had to be.

  Sabine forced herself to stare into those disarming eyes, wishing she could curb the calamity he incited inside her. “Oh, what I intend to do to you . . . will make it impossible for you to ever forget me.” Her smile was genuine.

  More male hoots erupted.

  A smile twitched at the corners of his lips, despite the heated interest that burned in his eyes. “Really? Do tell, Elise. What are your intentions?”

  Boldly, she moved her gaze down his sculpted body, a provocative appraisal, playing her role, buying herself time to think of an appropriate response. It was then she saw the unmistakable bulge in his breeches. Her pulse leaped.

  She, a sexual novice, had done that to him—a seasoned rake?

  A surge of much-needed confidence filled her. She moved her gaze slowly, suggestively, back up his body, using the time to steady herself against the fresh wave of heat that shot through her blood. She shouldn’t be reacting this way toward him. She understood just what kind of man he was.

  By the time she met his gaze again, she’d returned a firm smile to her face. “It would seem that I have sufficiently raised your . . . interest. You can send me away and ponder whether you made the right choice during this long, warm night . . . here alone in your camp . . . of all men. Or you can sample what I offer and find out firsthand what I intend.” She tilted her head coquettishly. “What say you?”

  Sabine held her breath and waited for his response.

  3

  No doubt about it. Jules had definitely gone without sex for too long if this woman’s odd attempts to entice him were actually having an effect.

  His cock was as stiff as a spike.

  He’d had every intention of sending her away. Yet the longer he spent taking in her petite appealing form, her delicate curves, the longer he inhaled the sweet forest scent emanating from her hair, the more his head and his cock were at odds.

  Dieu, he most definitely liked her pale-colored hair.

  Illuminated by the night’s silvery light, it was the color of starlight and moonbeams. Twined into a thick braid, resting on her bare shoulder, it looked silky soft. He was gripped by a powerful urge to untie the bit of ribbon that held it bound and drive his fingers into it. He wanted to tilt her head back with a sensual tug of her pretty hair and feast from the column of her slender neck down to those perfect perky tits she wanted him to notice.

  Merde. He was actually lusting after a prostitute.

  One who looked like an enchanted creature from the Fae. He could easily envision her lying naked for his pleasure, basking in the light of the moon, like a forest nymph. All his for the taking.

  He couldn’t believe it, but for the first time in a very long time, he found himself actually desiring the woman. Not just the release.

  Better still, he was affecting her, too. Each time she neared, he sensed her arousal. Even in the night’s light, he could tell she was flushed. A glance at her graceful neck told him that her pulse raced. And her pretty nipples, ones he was dying to taste, were pressed ever so enticingly against her chemise, begging for his attention. Reactions that were peculiar for a common whore. Yet extremely tantalizing.

  For a woman of her trade, it was odd to find one who looked so fresh and lush instead of dulled and jaded. It meant she was either a lusty little piece who’d prove to
be a spirited sex partner, or new at her craft.

  “Sir?” The elder of the two young men with her spoke up. “The woman for you, some burgundy for you and your men, in exchange for food—and perhaps a few coins. What say you? Do we have a bargain?”

  Jules glanced briefly at the young man then returned his attention to his tempting forest fairy. He saw apprehension flash in her eyes for just an instant. That, too, struck him as peculiar.

  All right. He’d ask a few questions to allay the niggling doubts that were nibbling at the fringes of his mind, and if she answered them to his satisfaction, he’d have her, and indulge in some much-needed sexual oblivion.

  Jules reached for her braid and lifted it off her shoulder, letting its silky weight rest on his palm. Her eyes widened ever so slightly.

  Holding her gaze and the braid, he stroked down along the satiny hair—purposely brushing his knuckles lightly against her soft skin—languorously making his way down to the scrap of material tied in a bow that rested so enticingly on her breast. She made the faintest sound. So soft, in fact, he wasn’t certain he’d heard it at all.

  He leaned in toward her ear and said, “Elise, you’ve not had a lot of experience whoring, have you?”

  Then he pulled back and looked into her eyes, half expecting to see her falter, hoping desperately she wouldn’t. To his delight, she was sporting her usual smile. “I have enough experience to make certain you will be well pleased. Rest assured.”

  Good answer. Next question.

  He caressed his thumb over the velvety braid. “Who are these men with you?”

  “No one of importance. Simply traveling companions. For protection.”

  “Are they forcing you to do this?”

  “No,” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “I do what I want”—she cocked a delicate brow—“and I want you.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. By the smug look in her eyes, he could tell she was convinced she’d have him at her mercy. He was a born leader. He’d always been naturally dominant, in and out of bed. He planned to have this beautiful, spirited woman completely undone and at his mercy.

  Oh, this was going to be sweet.

  He hadn’t had good sex in too damn long.

  He released her braid. “Raymond?”

  “Yes?” He heard the smile in Raymond’s voice. Normally it would have irked him, but in his ardent state, he didn’t care a whit.

  “Have a private spot prepared for Elise and me.”

  “Immediately, Commander.” Raymond turned and ordered one of the men to do his bidding.

  “Martin,” Jules said.

  The young man stepped forward from the group. “Commander?”

  “Escort Elise and her companions into the camp and provide them with some food.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Jules turned to her and said, “I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Her smile grew. “I will follow your man,” she said obligingly. “But at the moment, I find my hunger for you supersedes my appetite for food. I’d rather devour you.” She gave him a saucy wink.

  He found himself fighting back another smile, despite the hungry twitch of his cock, his every rakish instinct telling him that they were going to be a perfect sexual match. “I look forward to it, Elise.”

  Once everyone had left, Jules turned to Raymond. “Watch the young men.”

  “Of course, my lord. They will be guarded the entire time.” Raymond was still smiling.

  “And about the burgundy they offer, anyone who drinks a drop forfeits his share of the bounty. I’ll not have any of the men drunk while we possess our capture. Besides, their insistence about the burgundy being part of the bargain gives me pause.” Aside from a handful of people, Jules trusted no one. No matter how harmless they seemed. Not since his world had fallen apart. Not when his silver treasure was going to change his life.

  His appealing little blond camp follower was there to serve only one purpose. Once the sexual encounter was over, she and her friends would be turned out. With their wine.

  “As you will. No one will drink the wine. And, my lord, you are most welcome.” Raymond’s smile broadened.

  Jules slanted him a look. “Don’t be so smug, Raymond, simply because you did well tonight in convincing me to see the girl for myself.”

  “We’re quite fortunate that such a fetching and fiery woman came along. Enjoy her—as I’m sure you will—and do take your time.”

  Jules smiled. “I plan to.”

  This was going to be a night neither of them would forget.

  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.

  “Huh?”

  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 h
and reached out and grasped her braid.

  Good Lord, not the braid again . . .

  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?”