A Midnight Dance

by Lila DiPasqua

  “You lived under his protection, on his domain.” He drained his goblet. “You received something in return for the taxes you paid. You were given the opportunity to flourish. If you didn’t, it isn’t his fault. He ought not to be denied what he’s justly owed because of poor management of funds, or in many cases with the lower class, plain laziness.” He sliced a piece of ham from the platter before them and placed it on her plate.

  His words were like a fist to her belly.

  Gone was Jules her lover. In his place was an Aristo, lacking in empathy for all those he considered a lesser breed of human.

  “Laziness?” She could barely contain her ire. “Opportunity to flourish? How, pray tell, does one ‘flourish’ when the lower class must farm their lord’s land before they’re permitted to farm their own? When they aren’t permitted to sell any produce until their lord’s is sold? The lower class is made to use his mill and ovens and pay him for the ‘privilege.’ They cannot touch the forests or lakes on his lands, hunt or fish there, no matter how starved they are. And taxes are levied against them at his whim.”

  “It’s his right,” he said blandly. “He deserves what he’s owed.”

  Her mouth fell agape, utterly incredulous. Quickly, she clamped it shut.

  She was a fool! How many times did she have to be disillusioned by him before she finally accepted that there was no Dark Prince? Born of her imagination, he didn’t really exist.

  She’d seen signs of his arrogant noble airs again and again, yet still deluded herself into believing he was somehow different from his peers. Jules’s disgrace hadn’t humbled him at all. Not even a little.

  “Elise, everyone bemoans the taxes,” he said pouring more wine in his goblet and taking another drink. “But they are necessary and just.” Setting his goblet down, he looked about the room, then rubbed his eyes with his thumb and finger.

  Furious, she countered, “Just? If they’re so just, then why doesn’t the upper class pay any? They don’t even pay taxes to the Crown. Those are paid by the lower class, as well!”

  He shook his head. At first she thought he was protesting her statement, but then he dropped his head into his hands. Her tirade died in her throat. When at last he looked up, his face was pale, and his breathing quick. He blinked hard, as if he was trying to clear his vision. Glancing at her untouched meal, he demanded, “Why aren’t you eating?”

  Before she could think of an answer, he rose, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He gripped the edge of the table and hung his head. “What’s happening?”

  With her heart pounding in her chest, she rose, too.

  He met her gaze, his eyes narrowed, his expression fierce. “Tell me you haven’t done anything. Tell me you haven’t tainted the food.” He was beginning to sway. “Tell me!” he bellowed.

  She jumped.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  She couldn’t speak and there was no way she was going to approach him. She took a step back.

  “Damn you, I said come here!” He stepped away from the table. The sudden movement caused him to stumble back and knock over the chair. His large body collapsed, striking the chair, and landed on the floor with a hard thud.

  13

  Except for the uncontrollable quaking of her body, Sabine didn’t move. Pieces of the broken chair around him, beneath him, Jules lay on his side, wisps of his dark hair on his cheek.

  Her heart in her throat, she called out his name.

  No response.

  Cautiously, she approached him.

  Lowering herself onto her knees, an arm’s length away, she reached out a shaky hand and pushed at his shoulder. He rolled onto his back. His head lolled to the side, his hair falling away from his face. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with every breath he took in his artificial slumber.

  Her throat tightened. Such a beautiful face. Sadly, it belonged to a man who was so heedless of the suffering he and his class had caused.

  Footsteps approached. She shot to her feet and stepped back. The door burst open. In rushed Vincent, Louise, Agnes, and Robert. Clearly, they’d heard the commotion.

  They gathered near her and peered down at Jules.

  “D-Did it truly work?” Robert asked, incredulous.

  “It did,” Sabine said.

  A burst of joviality erupted from the foursome, startling her.

  “She did it! We’re rich!” Vincent embraced his sister, then Agnes.

  Agnes giggled like a little girl. “We can buy whatever we want! We’ll want for nothing ever again!”

  Sabine didn’t share in their gaiety. Her eyes were drawn back to Jules. Elise was gone. Sabine was back. And so was her empty reality. Yet she felt no sadness. No anger. Or even satisfaction over her deed. Only a dull familiar ache.

  Standing behind her, Robert flung his arms about her waist, picked her up, and swung her around. “We are richer than the King, Sabine! Your plan worked!”

  Sabine tried to smile. “Put me down, Robert.”

  The moment her feet touched the floor, Robert wrapped his arms around her shoulders, hugging her from behind, and pressed his cheek against hers. “We made them pay, Sabine. All of them. The men in the stables are down, as well. Gerard is there guarding the silver. There is so much silver!”

  Agnes stepped forward and hugged her. “I had all the faith in the world in you.” She gazed at Sabine and lovingly caressed her cheek. “You brought him down, just as the Moutier deserved.”

  Robert and Agnes stepped back when Vincent approached. For the first time in her life, she saw tears in Vincent’s eyes. Giving her a fatherly embrace, he said softly near her ear, “What you have sacrificed for us, tesora . . .” using his native Italian.

  She knew he referred to her innocence and should have been embarrassed by the comment, but the numbness had spread through her body. Being in a deadened state for so long, she hadn’t known a day without it. Except during her time with Jules. Then and only then had it receded.

  Now it was back, and like a shield, it protected her from heartache. And—she looked over at Jules—she was grateful.

  Vincent placed an arm around Sabine’s shoulders and led her toward the door. “Come, let us get you out of here. Everything will be fine. Wonderful, in fact.” He kissed her temple. The others followed behind. “Agnes is right. The Aristo does not deserve regard or concern. If one of us were laid out on the floor, the only emotion he would feel would be annoyance because we were blocking his path.” Sabine said nothing. Had nothing to say.

  In the hallway Vincent joyfully shouted, “We can leave and return to Venice!”

  That got rousing applause and hoots from the group behind her. Sabine stopped abruptly. “What do you mean, ‘leave’?”

  “We can start afresh,” Louise spoke up. “Vincent and I can return to the Venetian stage. It’s a beautiful city to live in. We certainly have enough to live well there. We can open our own theater.” Born Louisa Carano, an Italian beauty, she’d been a star of the Venetian stage before becoming Sabine’s father’s premier actress and mistress. To her adopted nation, she and her brother were known as Louise and Vincent Caran. And she was still as attractive as ever.

  “We cannot simply leave. Not until I know where Isabelle is,” Sabine protested.

  The pitying looks on her family’s faces weren’t a surprise. She didn’t care what they thought. They’d no idea what it was like to live with half of yourself missing.

  “Before we can do anything,” she continued, “we must convert some of the silver into coins of the realm. Spanish coins are too distinct. It will make it easy for him to find us if we move from town to town using them.”

  “Sabine makes a good point,” said Vincent. “I know someone in Paris. For a share, he’d quietly melt the silver. He can make a mold so the coins will resemble those of the realm.”

  “Excellent. Where is Joseph, the inn’s owner?” Sabine asked.

  “He and Anne are with his sister in the next to
wn,” Agnes advised. “It took some convincing before they agreed to our plan.”

  “Pay them generously for their sacrifice,” Sabine told Vincent. “They won’t be able to return again.”

  He nodded. “Especially when the Aristo and his men awaken.”

  “Precisely. We won’t take any chances. Pay off anyone who needs to be silenced.” The words tumbled from Sabine’s mouth easily, with a detached authority she’d become skilled at. “We’ll split up into two groups. Vincent, take a cart, two chests of silver, and go to the city with Gerard and Robert to convert the coins. While you’re there, purchase fine fabrics—everything you can so we may dress the part. And look wealthy. We don’t want to stir anyone’s curiosity when spending silver coin. Louise, Agnes, and I will take our cart and the third chest and return home. We’ll be safe there for the time being.” She knew they’d have to leave the area. But that was different than abandoning Isabelle by leaving the realm altogether. “We’ll divide their horses amongst us. Though they don’t know our names, we don’t want to leave them the means to follow us.”

  Jules groaned.

  His body felt as heavy as his eyelids. Eyes shut, he didn’t want to move.

  But there was a stabbing sensation in his back, steadily growing more and more intense. He remained still, lethargic, until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

  Slowly, he forced his eyes open.

  At first, he saw nothing but a blur of shadow and light.

  It took several hard blinks before there was clarity. He realized he was alone in a room with bright sunlight streaming through the window. Confusion swamped him. Muddled fragmented thoughts seeped through the fog in his mind.

  Elise on the bed . . . Kissing her . . . Taking her . . . Dining with her . . .

  The tainted meal!

  He sat bolt upright. A pain knifed him in the ribs. He fell back onto one elbow, clutching his side with a growl.

  Damn the little witch to hell. The memory of her guilt-ridden face before he fell into darkness was forever seared into his brain.

  She’d drugged him.

  He could make no sense of it. He knew she was in dire straits, but the silver comb he’d given her was worth a tidy sum.

  Holding his side, he forced himself onto his knees and then his feet, ignoring the searing pain. Something on the bed caught his eye.

  The velvet pouch.

  It rocked him. If robbery was her motive, why didn’t she take the costly comb? Was he somehow mistaken? Or—his blood chilled—was she after a bigger prize?

  MERDE!

  He snatched the velvet pouch up and tore from the room, clutching his side. He raced down the stairs, sweat gathering on his brow. Fear and dread pushed him past the agony in his ribs. He sprinted through the common room, noting the eerie absence of life within, and flung open the front door.

  Sunlight momentarily blinded him. He ran to the stables and stopped dead at the sight that greeted him inside. There’d been times in his life he was sure he’d fallen into hell. His first sea battle. His father’s betrayal. But as he stared at his men sprawled on the hay, the vacant spot where the horses and cart—with the silver chests, with his future—once stood, he knew he’d walked into Hades.

  And he’d let his fucking cock lead the way.

  He drove his fist into the nearby wall. “NO!” And again and again, “NO! NO! N-O-O-O-O-O!” welcoming the brutal pain in his side with each punishing blow.

  He didn’t stop until his knuckles were raw, his lungs labored, and his side felt as though it was splitting in two.

  Clutching his side, he marched to a barrel, scooped up water with the nearby bucket, and doused his men.

  “Wake up!” he bellowed, dropping the bucket.

  They began to cough, and were slow to move. Raymond was the first to finally sit up, looking sluggish and befuddled.

  “Get up,” Jules hissed out. “It was a trap. The silver is gone.”

  The word “gone” had a sobering effect on the men. They were on their feet in an instant, the empty stable confirming his words.

  While expletives shot from the men’s mouths, Raymond simply looked stunned. “How could this have happened?”

  Jules clenched his teeth, the torture in his ribs and his volatile temper immense. He could hardly keep it in check when he said, “Elise. She fed us a tainted meal.”

  “But how? Wasn’t she was with you the entire time?”

  “Oh, indeed, she was with me,” Jules said, contempt clawing at his vitals. “This was the work of a conspiracy—Gilbert, Bernadette, and Claire. The two young men from the forest are likely involved, as well.”

  “But, Commander, the item you had me purchase, did you not . . . give it to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, why, with such a costly gift in her possession, would she feel the need to taint our food to steal from us?”

  “Raymond, what you fail to understand is that she was after a much larger treasure all along. She knew about the silver from the beginning.”

  “But how?” one of the men, Fabrice, asked.

  “Obviously, one of you had to have been careless,” Jules growled. This entire episode had been nothing short of a comedy of errors and proved to him that his first instincts about her and her suspicious behavior had been justified. Bloody hell, why hadn’t he heeded them!

  “What are we to do now, Commander?” Daniel asked. “She’s taken all the silver, including our share.”

  Jules grabbed a fistful of Daniel’s shirt and yanked him close, butting noses. “I’m quite aware of what she’s taken.” The bulk of which was his. “Everyone will get their share of the silver once it’s found.” In a deadly tone he added, “And believe me, it will be found.” Jules released the younger man abruptly, and flinched sharply.

  “Commander, are you injured?” Raymond asked.

  With an impatient hand, Jules waved off his concern. “It’s nothing.”

  “The commander’s correct.” Marc, who’d been silent until now, spoke up. “The temptation to spend their newfound fortune will be too great. It will be easy to follow the trail of Spanish silver. Further, with the weighty cart—the chests, the supplies, and all those people—they cannot travel quickly. Even with the head start they have, we can catch up to them.”

  “We don’t know which direction they’re traveling in, and we don’t have any horses,” Fabrice said.

  Clever though she was, she’d made one tiny misstep in her little plan.

  Jules dangled the velvet pouch. “This will get us the horses and supplies we need.” He tossed it to Daniel. “Attend to it. Fabrice and Marc, search the inn. I don’t expect you to find anyone, but look for any clues that will aid in finding those we seek. Someone in this town knows who our conspirators are—or at least where we can find the real owner of the inn,” Jules said. “He’s clearly a part of this deception. Question the townspeople.”

  Jules watched as the men headed out of the stables, every fiber in his body seething over Elise’s cunning duplicity. And his staggering stupidity.

  Raymond walked on past. He clasped his hand on Raymond’s shoulder, arresting his steps. “By the way, Raymond.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “The next time you get the urge to convince me to fuck a woman for my own good, stop yourself.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Jules removed his hand from Raymond’s shoulder. His servant strode away but stopped just before the entrance. “My lord, I am truly sorry . . .” he said, looking sincerely contrite, then left.

  Not nearly as sorry as Elise is going to be.

  With the men out of sight, Jules approached a wooden bench, and clenching his teeth, he eased himself down onto it.

  Lifting his shirt, he twisted to examine himself. A shot of agony tore up his side. He barely caught the groan that burned up his throat.

  There, smeared across his skin as far back as he could see, was a massive bruise. A fresh wave of rage crested over him
. Having seen enough injuries in his years of sea battle, he had a strong suspicion about what was wrong with his ribs.

  It wasn’t going to stop him from recovering his treasure.

  Or getting his hands on Elise—or whatever her fucking name was—who’d played him so falsely.

  She was going pay dearly for what she’d done.

  Sabine walked through the fallow field toward her gray stone twostory home. Once an impressive structure, over the years it had fallen into disrepair, its loose shutters, its crumbling façade, lending to its dilapidated appearance. Its pretty gardens replaced by farmland for survival. Glancing at the angry sky, she sensed a terrific storm approaching.

  She’d sent Olivier, her father’s former music composer, to tend to the horses. It had become her daily routine to check on the spot where they’d buried the treasure. It remained safe and untouched. Raids by bands of criminals desperate and hungry made it too risky to keep that amount of wealth within their home.

  Almost two weeks had passed since they’d returned to their dismal farm. However, this time the backbreaking work in the fields didn’t bother Sabine as much as before. Her days here were numbered. Her life was going to change. She was going to spare no expense to locate her sister. And she was going to find her. Alive. And be made whole again.

  She couldn’t live without her.

  Hadn’t lived without her.

  She was going to look into her cherished face once more. She was going to get the chance to tell her she loved her again. How much she’d missed her. Hear her laugh. Hug her tightly.

  As soon as Vincent and her cousins returned, their new life would begin. And she’d go after the answers she needed to locate her sister—with a vengeance.

  That cold detached note from the Marquis de Blainville, Jules’s father, informing them of Isabelle’s demise hadn’t rung true in her heart. Isabelle was somewhere.

  Not in that pauper’s grave he’d said he’d placed her in.

  Sabine squinted and shielded her eyes as the wind whipped up dirt from the unseeded plot. In no way did the land resemble the country estate it once was. Jules’s father—the vulture—had been all too happy to swoop in and purchase it from her foolish father, for the Laurent property sat in the middle of the Moutiers’ ancestral lands.