A Midnight Dance

by Lila DiPasqua

She placed it back in the pouch and held it out to him. “I cannot accept this.”

  It was his turn to be stunned. His brows shot up. “Pardon?”

  “Please take this back.” Her hand trembled.

  His gifts had never been refused. Reaching for her, he pulled her back down onto the bed, partially covering her with his body, the pouch still in her hand.

  “I want you to have it.”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t. It’s too much.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t deserve it, really.”

  He smiled down at her. “I’ll not take no for an answer. Now then, tell me you’ll accept the gift.”

  “No.”

  He dipped his head and brushed his lips just under her ear. She gasped. “Say yes,” he murmured against her skin. “Tell me you’ll accept it.” He trailed his lips down her neck all the way to one pert pink nipple, then closed his mouth over it. She cried out and instinctively arched to him. He suckled her until he had her writhing beneath him and then released the hardened bud. She whimpered in protest. “Do you want more, ma belle?”

  She was breathless again. “Yes.”

  “Then say it. Say you’ll accept my silver gift.”

  It amazed him that she was actually hesitating. Someone of her station would normally leap at the opportunity to own such a luxurious item.

  He lowered his head so that his mouth hovered over her other nipple. She arched to him, but he pulled back slightly.

  He was not one to be denied or turned down. “Well?” he asked. “I can go no further until I have your acceptance.”

  “Jules . . . please . . .”

  “Not the correct answer, chère.” He gave her nipple a teasing lick. She shivered with pleasure. He waited, his cock growing stiffer by the moment. She panted, stubbornly trying to deny him while battling her own mounting arousal.

  “Say it,” he prompted.

  She swallowed hard. “I’ll accept your silver . . . gift.”

  12

  Lying beneath him in the aftermath of yet another intense release, Sabine tightened her arms around Jules and returned each of his irresistible kisses. How did he do it? How did he make her so feverish? Wipe away everything with his magical touch?

  His skillful mouth moved to her shoulder.

  She closed her eyes, feeling wonderful. Years ago, when she still used to write, and would devote countless entries in her journal to speculating about how divine a single kiss from him would be, in her wildest dreams, she’d never envisioned anything like this. Being with him was far better than she’d ever envisioned.

  She stretched an arm, her hand hitting something on the bed. Glancing at the item, she saw it was the velvet pouch.

  His gift.

  A stab of conscience speared her. Proficient at deferring pain and distress, she wrestled it down. Determined to stave off reality as long as she could, she fought to hold on to the final few moments before all this would end.

  Who knew when she’d feel like this again? If she’d ever feel like this again?

  There was a sharp knock at the door. She started, her head colliding with his nose.

  He let out a grunt. “Merde,” he said, holding his nose.

  “I’m sorry!” She tossed a quick glance at the door, her heart thudding wildly. “Are you all right?” Her family had arrived. The spell was shattered. Knowing them, they were likely to burst in. She prayed Jules had locked the door.

  A second knock rapped against the door. Frantic, she turned to leap from the bed, but he caught her arm, keeping her from her flight.

  “What is it?” he barked at those in the hall.

  “Sir?” Sabine heard Louise say, her voice slightly muffled by the wooden barrier. “Your meal is ready.”

  “Not now. Return later.”

  “It’s been prepared to perfection, for you and your lady.” That was Agnes’s distinct voice. “If left, it will get cold.”

  Jules softly swore. “Ten minutes. Return not a moment before,” he ordered.

  Sabine tensed, fully expecting Agnes to argue, as was her nature. To her relief and surprise, she heard Agnes respond, “As you wish.”

  Returning his attention to her, he said, “Relax, Elise. They won’t set a foot in this room until I bid them enter.”

  Clearly, he knew little of her family’s errant ways.

  “Now then, where were we? Ah, yes. I believe I was about to kiss you.” A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “We’ve enough time to make you come again.”

  Despite his delicious words, all she could think about was that her family would be returning in ten minutes. He leaned in. She rolled and jumped from the bed. He almost kissed the mattress.

  “Merde. What are you doing?”

  She raced about the room, trying to locate her clothing. “They’ll be back soon.”

  “So?”

  “So, we must dress.” She scooped up her chemise, then her skirt. Her thoughts were frenzied. Her chest tight. There would be no more stalling. Reality had just knocked at the door. Spinning around, she sought her bodice and noticed that he was still on the bed on his side.

  Arm bent, his cheek resting against his palm, he was grinning. With a wave of his hand, he said, “Continue. I’m enjoying the entertainment.”

  “Entertainment?”

  “Mmm, yes. It’s quite enthralling. The sweet jiggle of your pretty breasts, and of course, there’s that perfectly gorgeous derrière of yours. It’s inspiring a variety of lustful thoughts.”

  His words unbalanced her and warmed her body. “They’ll return shortly,” she forced herself to say. Picking up his breeches, she tossed them at him. “You should dress.”

  He caught the article but didn’t look as though he was inclined to comply with her request. “Come here. I want a kiss.”

  Dear God, he had that look in his eyes. The one that told her he wouldn’t proceed until she relented.

  She wanted nothing more than to climb onto the bed and back into his arms, to hell with the world beyond their door, but she couldn’t do that. Her problems wouldn’t simply vanish on their own. To solve them required a serious amount of coin. And drastic action. The kind she was about to take.

  She only prayed she had the strength to go through with it.

  He was far too distracting at the best of times. In all his natural splendor, he was tempting beyond what she could resist. She simply had to have him clothed just so she could regain some semblance of her sanity.

  “I’m waiting.” He smiled.

  With little choice, she walked over to the bed and leaned down to give him a kiss, pushing from her mind the painful thought that this was likely to be their last.

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her down. She tumbled onto the bed with a surprised cry, falling across his lap.

  Releasing the clothing she’d been clutching in her hands, she twisted around. “Jules, what are you doing? You said you wanted a kiss.”

  He sat up. “I do. I just never said where.” He stroked a warm hand over her derrière, then leaned over her. He lightly bit her bottom. She yelped, the sensation both tickling and stirring. Then he pressed his lips to the same spot and kissed it.

  “I think,” he said, caressing where he’d just kissed, “that after our meal, I’ll take you from behind, where I can admire this charming part of your anatomy—while you’re tied and bound for my pleasure.”

  His words stopped her breathing for a moment, and sent her up in flames. Her sex responded with a hungry clench. What shocked and frightened her most was just how appealing she found the notion.

  “But that’s later,” he added. “As for now, we have to dress.” He gave her bottom a playful swat, moved her off his lap, and rose from the bed. With a wink, he put on his breeches.

  It took her a moment to collect her wits. She sat up and slipped on her chemise. Rising from the bed, refusing to look at him, knowing it would only make it more difficult if she did, she hastily finished dressing. Just as she was tying t
he lacing on her bodice, there was a knock at the door.

  Her heart lurched. Terror-struck, she looked at Jules. He wore his shirt untucked and stepped toward the door.

  She turned away. Desperate to distract herself, fearing she’d do something to sabotage their well-laid plans, she began straightening and smoothing the counterpane on the bed.

  “Elise, what are you doing?”

  She froze mid-stroke and looked up at him. His hand on the door latch, looking perplexed, he awaited her answer.

  Mentally she groaned. She was behaving bizarrely.

  Forcing a smile, she straightened and smoothed her fidgety hands down her skirt. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she folded them on her lap and answered, “Nothing. Aren’t . . . you going to let them in?”

  With a smile he shook his head—no doubt at her foolish antics—and unlocked the door.

  “Sir,” Louise and Agnes said with respectful nods, and entered balancing heavy trays of steaming food.

  Vincent carried a tray of decanters, goblets, and dinnerware. “Sir, we have a fine meal for you and the lady,” he said and placed his tray down on the side table near the window.

  “We have pheasant and a wonderful stew I’m certain you’ll enjoy,” Louise added. “And, of course, you’ll not find any mutton among the dishes.” She smiled.

  He gave a nod. “Be quick about your duty,” Jules said, still near the door. He didn’t care to have her family there any more than she did.

  “Of course.” Louise handed her tray to Vincent. “We’ll allow you to enjoy your food momentarily.”

  Sabine struggled to keep her breathing normal, dreading the impending events. None of her family glanced her way. And she was grateful. Their presence unnerved her.

  While Vincent lit the sconces to add to the dying light of day, Agnes and Louise worked diligently at covering the dining table with linen and setting down the ceramic service.

  A clap of thunder startled Sabine. Rain began to strike the windowpane. Like tears, it ran down the glass.

  Looking down at the counterpane, she blinked back her own tears and chastised herself for her emotional state. She was far better than this at keeping herself in check.

  Needing something to keep herself busy, she took up the task of braiding her hair and securing it with her ribbon she’d spotted on the bed. Another clap of thunder boomed. She flinched.

  Jules approached and stopped before her. She forced her gaze up his body to his face.

  He slipped his fingers beneath her chin. “You don’t like storms?” Clearly he’d been observing her and noted her distress.

  “No.” She uttered what felt like her thousandth lie.

  He helped her to her feet, then whispered in her ear, “After our meal, I’ll make you forget about whatever rages outside, Elise.”

  If only he could quell what was raging inside her right now. It would be as wonderful as hearing, just once, her real name from his lips.

  “There we are,” Louise announced. The table was set.

  And so, too, was the stage for this foul undertaking.

  Taking her elbow, he led her to the table; she forced each foot forward.

  Only when Sabine was seated directly across from Jules did she glance at Louise, who returned her gaze ever so briefly before turning her attention to Jules. “Sir, I trust you’ll find the food to your satisfaction. We’ve taken the liberty of bringing our finest burgundy and brandy for your pleasure. May we pour the wine?”

  “You may,” Jules responded.

  Watching the burgundy filling his goblet, sensing it was laced, Sabine felt nauseous.

  Agnes placed bowls of poached egg soup before them.

  Turning to Sabine, Louise said, “Brandy and burgundy don’t usually appeal to women. Do you wish some?”

  By the look in her eyes and the statement, Sabine easily read that both wine and brandy had been tainted.

  “No,” she managed to force out, “thank you.”

  Vincent poured water into a goblet and set it before her.

  “This burgundy has an odd taste to it,” Jules said.

  His statement grabbed everyone’s attention. Seeing him holding the goblet up, frowning, knowing he’d just taken a sip, made her stomach drop.

  “Why, it’s our finest,” Louise advised.

  Setting the goblet on the table, Jules pushed it toward Louise. “I don’t care for it. Take it away.”

  Sabine’s heart missed a beat, uncertain whether she felt defeated or elated.

  “As you wish.” Louise picked up the goblet and the decanter of tainted wine. “Claire, rush downstairs and get another burgundy,” she said to Agnes, handing her the items.

  Without hesitation, Agnes hurried to do her bidding.

  Vincent poured a goblet of the brandy and set it before Jules. “What about the brandy, sir? Would you care to try it?”

  Sabine forced her gaze down to her soup, unable to watch Jules drink it. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Louise and Vincent were engrossed, eagerly anticipating Jules’s sampling of the corrupted amber liquid. Sabine loathed every moment of this.

  “It’s good. The brandy may stay.”

  Sabine closed her eyes briefly before she shored up her nerve and returned her gaze to him.

  He met her regard with those dark seductive eyes of his and a lopsided smile. He picked up his spoon. Sabine mimicked the gesture, schooling her expression, forcing a look of gladness she didn’t feel.

  He tasted his soup. Unable to bring herself to eat, she simply stirred hers. Given the state of her stomach, she feared she’d lose its contents if she dared try.

  “Tell me about your cousin, Elise.”

  His voice yanked her out of her thoughts. “Cousin?”

  “In Maillard. What sort of man is he?”

  “Oh, him.” She glanced at Vincent and Louise. Their expressions gave away nothing of the horrible scheme they were involved in. This had seemed like such a good idea once. But now, in the thick of it, it felt unscrupulous. Didn’t any of this bother them? Even a little?

  “He is a good man. I think I will enjoy living with him.” What a consummate liar she’d become. She hated it. She hated it that Louise and Vincent stood watching this wicked deception with morbid fascination. She hated it that she didn’t despise Jules like before. Most of all, she hated it that she felt so corrupt and conflicted.

  Jules reached for the brandy.

  “Wait!” she exclaimed.

  He lifted a brow, his hand around the goblet.

  “Jules, do they”—she nodded at the familial spectators—“have to be here?”

  “Why, we’re here to serve your needs,” Louise stated, obviously objecting to any sort of dismissal.

  Before Jules could answer, Agnes rushed in.

  “A different burgundy, sir.” She gave him a ludicrous grin while holding a new decanter and goblet. Quickly, she poured the wine for him and set the items down on the table.

  “Jules, I can serve us . . .” Sabine suggested, anxious to see her family leave the room.

  “If they make you uncomfortable . . .” Jules turned to the threesome and said, “you may leave.”

  “But—” Louise began and was instantly silenced when Jules raised his hand.

  “Without another word,” he added with finality.

  Sabine refused to look at her family, but sensed their piercing stares nonetheless. Having no choice, they left, closing the door behind them.

  Sabine’s small measure of relief was short-lived. Jules reached for the new burgundy that was undoubtedly as tainted as the first had been.

  “Jules!” She stood up and walked around the table.

  Slipping onto his lap, she wrapped her arms about him and buried her face in his neck. She drew in his scent and the warmth of his strong body, wanting, needing one final moment with him.

  Think about what the Moutiers have done . . . But a voice inside her countered, Think of the joy he’s given you over the l
ast day. More bliss than you’ve known in your entire existence.

  She gazed into his eyes.

  “What is it, Elise?”

  She wanted to blurt out the truth, but knew she couldn’t. “I wish . . .” Her words caught against the lump in her throat.

  “What?”

  That I didn’t have to do this. “That after we part, you’ll think of me fondly.” She was making a fool of herself. Jules de Moutier was accustomed to women who were more sophisticated about bed sport. What she’d just uttered amounted to no better than emotional gushing.

  A smile formed on his lips. “I will think of you fondly.” After what she was about to do to him, nothing could be further from the truth.

  Despite her better judgment, she kissed him, savored his taste, the texture of his mouth, knowing that later she’d have to do everything in her power to forget everything about him.

  He broke the kiss, and brushed his lips against hers. “Chère, as much as I’m enjoying having your bottom resting where it is, if it continues to remain there much longer, neither of us will be eating a warm meal.” He rose with her in his arms, walked over to her chair, and set her down on it. Smiling into her face, he said, “I need sustenance. Sit and behave . . . for now.” The last two words were uttered with such heart-fluttering sensuality. She nodded and fisted her hands on her lap to keep from reaching for him and hauling him back.

  Sitting across from her, looking better than any male ought to, he tasted his soup again.

  “You know, Elise, once you’ve reached your cousin and have settled there, you must do right by your former lord. You owe him money.”

  Having just taken a drink of the water from her goblet, Sabine almost choked. “Pardon?”

  “You need to attend to your debt.”

  She stiffened. “I did attend to my debt. I left.”

  “That doesn’t negate your obligation to him. You must pay it off. You lived on his land. He has every right to expect payment for it.” He sampled the burgundy in his goblet. “At least this burgundy is better than the last.”

  She reeled from his statement.

  “I’ve paid all that I can and will ever pay him. Thanks to his excessive taxes, he’s stripped me of everything I hold dear.”