A Midnight Dance

by Lila DiPasqua

  “I’m sorry . . .” Jules said, somehow managing to force the words up his constricted throat.

  “Thank you. So am I. I miss him.”

  Jules looked across the field. “So do I.”

  “Well, then, why don’t we have our fête in honor of Sébastien and Paul.”

  “Excellent idea!” Olivier rubbed his hands together as he watched the parade of food being brought into the house by the servants.

  Leon smiled. “Now, where did you say your violin is, Olivier?”

  Olivier’s grin died and he glanced at Jules. “Monsieur de Moutier has it.”

  All eyes turned to Jules. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t betray the depth of his devastation. “Raymond.”

  “Commander?”

  “Get him his violin.” Needing a moment, Jules turned and strode toward the house.

  “What is it, Sabine?” Leon asked as they stood at the side of the house. In the distance, Olivier played with great fervor. The delicious smell of roasted meats sweetening the air seduced her stomach. Jules was still in the house, and Raymond had just returned inside. This was an opportune time for a private word with Leon.

  Though this wasn’t the sort of conversation she wanted to have, she’d no choice. She was obliged. “I wanted to talk to you about . . . the loan.”

  He looked down. “Oh. That.”

  “My father borrowed a vast sum, and I want you to know I will pay it back. Somehow, I’ll find a way . . . It’s just that things are rather difficult here—”

  Leon placed his fingers over her lips to still them. “Sabine, it grieves me that you learned of it. I had no intention of ever bringing the matter up. As far as I’m concerned, the debt died with your father. I’ll not take a single coin from you.”

  Her eyes widened. She removed his hand. “No, Leon, it’s only right that I pay it back.”

  “No, it isn’t. It was a matter between your father and me. The loan is forgiven.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “Leon, are you certain . . . ?”

  “I am. I refuse to take any funds from you.”

  Feeling a tremendous weight lifted from her shoulders, she flung her arms around him. “Thank you!”

  He chuckled. “I must say, I like your gratitude.”

  She gazed up at him, unable to stop smiling.

  He glanced at her mouth, his smile slowly fading. “Sabine . . .” He lowered his head.

  Her arms dropped from his shoulders, and she looked away, a purely reflexive reaction that stunned her. She’d never refused his kiss before.

  Leon cupped her cheeks and turned her face to his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Especially under the circumstances. That was completely inappropriate. Please forgive me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. This was exactly the sort of man she should want a kiss from—handsome, decent, and thoughtful. Why didn’t he stir her as ardently as . . . She arrested that thought.

  “Isn’t this touching, Raymond?” Jules’s voice startled her. She jumped back away from Leon and spun around.

  Jules leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Ever-loyal Raymond flanked him.

  “Very, Commander.” Raymond’s tone was flat.

  Leon muttered an oath. “Moutier, your timing and manners leave something to be desired.”

  “Really?” Jules shrugged. “I thought they were perfect. Raymond, escort Sabine back to the celebration. I want a word with the Baron.” Raymond moved toward her.

  Leon stepped in front of her. “Sabine and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

  “A conversation? Interesting choice of words.”

  Sabine saw Leon’s body stiffen. “I know your years in social exile have probably taken their toll on you, but you have been abrasive and rude. By what authority do you command anyone here? And what, for that matter, are you bloody well doing here in the first place?”

  Sabine flinched at the fury in Leon’s tone. Peeking around him, she saw Jules place a hand on the hilt of his sword. Her stomach dropped.

  “This is my authority,” Jules advised. “As to what I’m doing here, that is none of your concern. Don’t inject yourself into what doesn’t involve you.”

  Sabine’s heart rapped wildly. Though dueling was illegal, that didn’t stop men in the upper class. Certain as to who the victor would be, the last thing she wanted to see was Leon injured—mortally or otherwise.

  She stepped around him. “It’s all right, Leon.”

  “It is not all right. Why is he here, Sabine? Why does he order you about?”

  “He does not order me about.” She moved to Jules. Only when she stood close to him could she sense the full extent of his fury. Anger emanated from him in waves. Why was he this angry? “There will be no dueling,” she said to Jules.

  He dragged his gaze away from Leon. “If he does not provoke one, there’ll be no trouble.”

  She turned to Leon. “Please, I ask you to keep your head, when he”—she glared at Jules—“cannot.”

  Leon gave a nod. “You have my word. I’ll not cause you distress.”

  “Thank you. I know I can always count on you, dear Leon.” She smiled.

  Leon offered his smile in return.

  Every soft sentence she uttered, every demonstration of affection exchanged, boiled Jules’s blood. Feelings of possessiveness were foreign to him. It infuriated him further that not only was he feeling them now, but for a woman who was unworthy of any heightened interest.

  The moment she rounded the corner with Raymond, Jules said, “You have an interesting way of offering your condolences, Baron.”

  “Sabine and I have known each other for many years. We have a deep affection for each other. I’ve watched her grow into the beautiful woman she is today. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her physical appeal?”

  “I’ve noticed,” Jules remarked, muscles taut.

  “Yes, well there is more to her than just her comeliness. She also has wonderful wit and charm.”

  Other than her journal entries, Jules had never been exposed to either. Elise had delighted him with both. But she was a lie.

  “But Sabine is an innocent,” Leon said. “I’ve kept my distance.”

  Jules narrowed his eyes. He wanted to slam his fist into Leon’s lying face. “Baron, I have over the ‘years in social exile’ developed a certain oversensitivity to lies. You have not kept your distance. There’s been amorous contact between you in the past as well as the present. And, we both know you want more of the same.”

  “Sabine is aware of my attraction to her. What of it?”

  “So you came to console her by coaxing her into your bed.” It was a statement. Not a question.

  “It isn’t like that. My sympathies are genuine.”

  “So is your interest in fucking her.”

  It was Leon’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I sincerely want to save her from wasting away on this farm. She was born for greater things than this.”

  Jules crossed his arms. “You came to propose marriage?” His comment was purposely flippant.

  “We both know that’s impossible. Though a finer wife no man could have, no one in my family would ever sign a marriage contract between us. She’s impoverished, with no noble blood to speak of.”

  “Then, you do intend to make her your mistress. Paul Laurent was indeed a fortunate man to have a friend like you. Here he’s not yet cold in his grave and you’re already sniffing around his daughter’s skirts. Curious, did you make your intention to ‘save her from wasting away on this farm’ known to him when he was alive?”

  “You are making me out to be some kind of roué. You know it’s a far better option than what she faces here.”

  Jules hated it that Leon was right. It was an offer she might very well accept. Especially if, indeed, Leon was her precious Dark Prince.

  “I’ll ask her when the time is right,” Leon said. “I’ll ensure that she lives in a lifestyle befitting
a lady. Why should any of this matter to you?” He studied Jules briefly. “You want her, don’t you?” Leon sauntered over to him. “Leave her be. She wouldn’t hold your interest for long. Your mistresses never do. She doesn’t need a man who’ll grow bored and discard her.”

  That was just it. She had held his interest from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. And he wanted it to end.

  Jules stalked away.

  He wanted to stop having erotic dreams of her every night as he slept in her bed. He wanted to forget the intensity of their past sexual encounters and the connection they’d made. Merde, he wanted to stop obsessing over her journal and snap this fascination he had with her and the identity of the Dark Prince.

  He marched up to her as she stood listening to Olivier’s music and clapping along with the rest of her family. Wrapping his fingers around her arm, he said in her ear, “We need to talk.” Her soft blond hair tickled his nose.

  Without giving her a chance to protest, he walked toward the house with purposeful strides, and her in tow.

  He didn’t stop until he reached his room. Shutting the door, he pressed her up against it. Her eyes widened.

  He pressed his palms against the wooden barrier on either side of her head. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want the truth for a change. Do you hear me?”

  She lifted her chin a notch. “Of course, my lord. Say it any louder and they’ll hear you in England.” She tossed his earlier words back at him.

  He took a deep breath, striving for patience. Lord knows she tested it in the extreme.

  “Who is the Dark Prince?” he asked.

  Color infused her cheeks, and her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze darted to the windowsill then back to him. “You found my journals? And read them? How could you? They were private. You had no right!”

  “Who is he?” he insisted.

  “You have no decency?”

  “Answer me.”

  “If you’ve read them, then you know the answer. Why ask?”

  “I’ve read some, and I want to know here and now: Who is the Aristo? Who’s the Dark Prince?”

  He waited, willing her to say “Leon,” praying it would kill his fascination for good.

  She looked down. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse to answer. But then those gorgeous silvery eyes swept up and met his gaze.

  “You.”

  He jerked back. “Me?”

  “Don’t let it swell your arrogant head. I was young. And I erred in the name. I shouldn’t have called you ‘the Dark Prince.’ ‘The Prince of Darkness’ suits you better.”

  Jules was too stunned to be angered by her remark. “But . . . you wrote that we met once. Outside the theater. Something about a glass slipper?”

  She laughed without mirth. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Why would someone of your exalted station remember such an insignificant occurrence?”

  But it hadn’t been insignificant to her. It had been of great importance. A cherished moment she’d referred to repeatedly in her journal.

  She often said he noticed no one outside his class. For the most part that was true. But Dieu . . . how could he have utterly missed a pretty girl who’d watched his every move with such touching adoration?

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know what to say.” Jésus-Christ. It was truly him. This shed a whole new light on what had transpired between them. His thoughts were spinning.

  “Don’t say anything. Things are very different now. I don’t feel that way about you any longer. I was mistaken about your character.”

  Oh, no. She wasn’t going to resort to her usual ploys. She was trying to anger him. To distract him and distance herself from this revelation. He couldn’t understand it, but knowing he was the Dark Prince actually . . . pleased him. His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. A lot.

  His lovely little schemer was about to be deliciously cornered.

  He wasn’t going to let her squirm her way out of this one.

  She was going to own up to some tantalizing truths. Those sweet caresses she gave him on the back of his neck every time he took her had just taken on a whole new meaning. Caresses he was sure she wasn’t even aware she gave.

  Sabine was mortified.

  No one had ever read her journals. Not even Isabelle. He’d read her emotional outpouring. Knew how she’d felt about him. Her silly girlhood dreams.

  Pressing his palms against the door again, he leaned his powerful body toward her.

  Awareness rippled through her.

  “Just because we had sex doesn’t mean you know me or my character,” he said.

  She wished he’d step back. His proximity incited her senses. Just having him this near made her heart race and her nipples tighten. “I knew about your poor character long before that.”

  He lifted a skeptical brow. “Really? Isn’t it interesting that you showed a man of ‘poor character’ such heated enthusiasm in bed?”

  The heat in her cheeks crept down her neck. “It was all part of my plan to take the silver. I had to maintain your interest . . .”

  He captured her chin and caressed her cheek lightly with his thumb. Hot tingles radiated from his touch. “I gave you a choice at the inn,” he said. “We could have had our meal downstairs in the common room, which, given your plan, would have ended matters between us much sooner. But instead you chose to prolong our time together. You let me take you upstairs, strip the clothes off your body, and fuck you twice more.”

  Oh, God. “My family awaits me.” She made to leave.

  “Not so fast.” He gripped her shoulders and held her in place. “Some honesty from you is long overdue.”

  “Don’t let your arrogance delude your thinking,” she said, hoping her voice sounded strong. “That you’re the Dark Prince is irrelevant. I told you before—I enjoy your carnal talents. I decided to indulge.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You’ve not had enough sexual experience to be that nonchalant. I’ve read enough of your journal to know that, deep inside, you’re a romantic.”

  She didn’t know what she hated more, having her family accuse her of being too practical, or having Jules, privy to her fanciful ramblings, discover otherwise.

  “I’ve changed,” she insisted, desperate to regain the ground she’d lost. Though, even to her own ears, her remark lacked conviction.

  “Is that so?” Resting a palm against the door, he slipped one of her tresses between the fingers of his other hand and played with a strand of her hair. “That first night in the forest, I asked you to name your pleasure, whatever sexual indulgence you wanted. Do you remember what you asked for?”

  Yes. “No.”

  A devilish gleam entered his eyes. “A kiss . . . ‘Oh, heaven would be a kiss from his lips,’” he recited. “‘Nothing on this side of the stars would be finer.’” Recognizing her words from her journal, she cringed. “You wrote that. You wanted that from the Dark Prince. I had you multiple times, Sabine. Each time you were keen, impassioned, highly responsive, and surrendered completely. You got caught up in your own game and fantasy.” He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “Admit it.” Her belly fluttered.

  She’d sooner cut out her own tongue before she’d admit to that.

  He brushed his lips over that tantalizing spot under her ear. She gasped. Her sex answered with a warm gush. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you this quiet.” She could hear the smile in his tone. He was thoroughly enjoying this. Both the truth about the Dark Prince and her weakness for him. Damn her for the untamable desire she had for this man. “We both know you’ve kissed Leon, likely on more than one occasion. For a woman who claims she dislikes nobles, it’s curious how you’ve only engaged in amorous encounters with highborn men.”

  He straightened. Softly panting, she forced herself to meet his eyes, so dark and devastating.

  He smiled, looking smug.

  She wanted to wipe that smile from his face, but couldn’t muster a defens
e. She wasn’t about to admit she’d only kissed Leon to forget “the Dark Prince.”

  He replaced both palms against the door and angled his head. With his mouth so near, his breath warmed her lips. She felt its heat flow through her veins.

  Caught between the wood door and his hard body, she was as trapped as she was transfixed, acutely aware of the mortifying hunger, all the signs of her feminine weakness to his masculine appeal.

  “Poor Leon. He doesn’t stand a chance at ever having you, does he?” Slowly, he lowered his mouth. Anticipating a kiss, her heart skipped a beat. But he stopped short. “And you are definitely worth having.”

  He skimmed his lips across hers, sending her thoughts scattering and her body rioting for more. His hot mouth was again pressed to the sensitive spot below her ear. Lightly, he drew on her neck. She closed her eyes and bit back her moan. Liquid heat pooled between her legs. Damn him. He had the upper hand and he knew it. She couldn’t locate the will in her bereft body to stop him. Not when he was creating the most delicious sensations with his expert mouth. Not when she grew more and more desperate for him.

  The pulsing between her legs was a terrible distraction, her body too attuned to this man, reacting to every little thing he did.

  He burned a path to her jaw and up to the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted once more, needing to be kissed. Yet he still denied her.

  “Did I fulfill your fantasy, chère? Did I live up to your expectations of the Dark Prince?”

  More than she could ever comfortably admit.

  “Tell me, pretty forest fairy, do you ever think about our time together? Do you ever lie in bed and remember the feel of my hands and mouth on your body? The feel of me inside you?”

  Her breaths quick, ragged, shallow, she couldn’t push words—another lie—up her throat.

  One of his irresistible smiles appeared on his face, beautiful dimples and all. “This is a novelty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fiery Sabine Laurent so quiet. Do I take your silence to mean you want me to answer for you?”

  No, say something. But she couldn’t think beyond the tormenting need throbbing through her feminine sex. She could barely contain the urge to reach for him.