“If an afternoon with a man’s mistress is a bad influence, I can only imagine what weeks with me have been.”
“Jeanette, do not—”
“I am finished with this conversation, dear brother. Rest assured that I will instruct her on the proper protection of her virtue.” She made a display of turning the page of her book, but not before she cast him an arch glance.
That look said it all. Jeanette knew. She saw it in his forced indifference to Diane. She recognized tonight’s impatience for what it really was, and had recognized his pique upon his return this afternoon as more than a guardian’s concern.
He remembered the irrational anger that had built while he watched the yellow muslin nestled close to a dark coat. A good thing it had been young Duclairc. His mood had been black enough that he might have thrashed another man. Whether Duclairc had believed the “cousin” part would not matter. He would retreat in either case.
But what of the others? And there undoubtedly would be others.
He reminded himself that it was the plan and he should be glad of his success. His own reaction was merely an unforeseen complication, and he would conquer it.
Diane entered the library. No trumpets blared, no floral scent filled the air, but he knew of her arrival at once, despite her silent step.
He looked over and his mouth went dry.
She stood a bit stiffly, charmingly unsure of her effect. The violet gown and cream lace made her skin appear to be pale porcelain. Her abundant hair was piled in a loose style that begged to be undone by a man’s hands. The other women at the opera would create a riotous bouquet. Amidst their full blooms, Diane would be one discreet rose, its petals barely parted in a teasing lure of what was to come.
It was the plan, and it had succeeded.
Only the wrong man had become enthralled.
“She will do, Daniel?” Jeanette asked.
“Of course, but there was never any doubt on that. However, I should probably bring my sword to protect her from the admirers.”
It was the sort of thing a cousin would say, blandly gracious and politely flattering. He doubted it sounded as cool as he had planned, because a deep flush crept up Diane’s neck to her cheeks. For an instant, while he approached to escort her to the waiting coach, her gaze met his in that provocative, cautious way that she had.
That was the truly hellish part of this. Not only Jeanette knew. Diane did too. She might not understand it, but she felt it. It frightened her.
As well it might.
It took her the whole way to the theater to recover from that look.
It had only lasted a moment while he walked toward her, but her heart had stopped for what seemed forever. When her pulse began again, it pounded all the way to the opera, because the commanding magnetism still poured out of him like a beckoning force.
The opulence of the theater and the rich finery of the crowd stunned her. She could only look and look, and was sure she appeared as a wide-eyed child.
It was a night of dazzling drama and brilliance. She floated beside Daniel in a dream. His friends visited the box, some whom she had met, like Vergil Duclairc, but most of whom she had not. At the lavish dinner between acts, she spied a few of Jeanette’s friends with men other than their husbands. Unlike Daniel and herself, they were obviously not in the company of their cousins.
The surroundings mesmerized her enough that Daniel ceased to do so. The continuous assault on her senses made her heady, and the flatteries of the men’s glances and greetings left her feeling bold. After the meal, she and Daniel found themselves alone in the box for the first time all night.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“Jeanette will not come. She is not shy about her infirmity, but being carried into a theater is too conspicuous even for her.”
“Why not bring your Margot? It appears that other men have done so.”
“I brought you because I thought you might enjoy it. You have not been to the opera before, have you?” He paused. “I realize that in your case innocence does not mean ignorance, but that was another impertinent question, and I think that you know it.”
“I have discovered that I get frank answers when I am impertinent.”
“Then perhaps you should ask such questions of my sister. It is more appropriate for her to explain the ways of the world to you.”
“I have questions that Jeanette cannot answer.”
The second act began then. Its flamboyance distracted her. The beautiful music flowed into her in an emotional torrent. With experience, she suspected she would not react so completely, but this was her first time and she possessed no defenses against the stirring assault on her senses.
She almost forgot about the man sitting to her right. She might have done so completely if he had forgotten about her too. But he watched her periodically. She could feel him do so.
“What questions?” The low query came well into the last scene.
She kept her gaze on the stage. “Since you ask, I have been wondering about something all night. This afternoon you said that Margot had been parading me as a potential mistress. For what purpose are you parading me, m’sieur?”
No, she wasn’t ignorant, despite all those years at that school. She was too smart for that.
She took it all in, seeing clearly despite the blinding brilliance. Her delight was childish, but her assessments very mature. Behind her glittering eyes he could see her mind fitting everything in its place and absorbing the realities flickering beneath the candlelight.
That made it harder. Ignorance would have thoroughly discouraged him. He could have pretended she was still a schoolgirl, for all intents and purposes. But the worldly understanding gave her a woman’s presence and provided a foil to her innocence that proved dangerously provocative.
Perhaps he had sensed it that day at the school. His instincts must have told him. It was why she was so perfect for the role.
It appeared that she might be too perceptive, however. For what purpose are you parading me?
As he escorted her out, he realized that the answer to her question was not the one that he thought to be true.
He had enjoyed the evening more than he could remember doing in the past. Even the company of a favored Margot, as Diane so neatly referred to mistresses, had never pleased him as much.
He was not just parading her for her education, to provide a bit of polish and to put her at ease with wealth and high society. He was doing so because he was delighted to have her company and to be seen by her side. The world might think of them as cousins, but he knew they were not. He was incredibly proud of her, and had reacted to other men’s responses to her in a way that was immediate and personal. And possessive.
This was not how it was supposed to be. He contemplated that as they left the theater to await the carriage.
A crowd filled the area. Not only the attendees milled around, but also city dwellers who came to gawk at the coaches and gowns. Some of the latter shouted insults at the many foreign men exiting the theater, often with Parisian women on their arms. The top reaches of French society had survived the war fairly intact, but the common people of Paris still felt the deprivations and resented the occupying conquerors.
He guided Diane to the edge of the crowd as he saw his carriage inching down the line toward them.
“Sanclare.” The furious word, snarled like a curse, pierced the noise. Daniel swerved as a ragged, bearded, fiery-eyed man lunged through the crowd.
Instincts shouting, Daniel grabbed Diane to shield her from the danger. Someone jostled her out of his grasp and she stumbled right into the attacker. The assailant swept her aside and kept coming, snarling the word again.
A knife rose. Daniel grabbed the arching arm and swung his fist with all his strength. The knife clattered to the ground as the madman doubled over. Daniel kicked the weapon away.
It happened so quickly that others nearby had only reacted with dumb astonishment. Now pandemonium broke l
oose in the crowd. A circle of onlookers formed around Diane. Ignoring the internal voice that warned him to hold on to his attacker, Daniel pushed through the bodies and dropped to his knee beside her.
She was badly shaken and breathless with shock. A streak of horror froze through him when a woman cried that the knife had cut Diane’s arm. While other men cleared a path and shouted for the coach, he lifted her in his arms.
In the light of the coach lamp he saw that the cut was not bleeding badly and was only a scratch. The trembling body that he carried, however, said that she was hardly unscathed otherwise.
He got her into the carriage, stripped off his cape, and tucked it around her.
“Who . . . why . . .”
“A madman, perhaps angry with the English. He probably thought me one from the cut of my clothes.”
She pulled the cape closer. “I am so cold suddenly.”
He lifted her onto his lap so she would know she was safe. So he would know she was safe.
She took deep breaths to calm herself. “I feel so stupid. I was not badly hurt, but I cannot . . . I feel as though death just brushed against me. . . . It is foolish to be this unsettled, but . . .”
Death had just brushed against her. The thought of how closely, chilled him. He could feel the realization of that sink into her as well, frightening her more.
Her cheek was barely an inch from his face. He brushed his lips against it. “Your reaction is not foolish. It is normal. But you are safe now. We are in the carriage, going home, and he is gone.”
She nestled closer and he embraced her more tightly. Slowly, like a lowering veil, her shaking subsided.
He inhaled the scent of violet water and grew too aware of the feel of her body. His concern and relief became colored with other reactions. Their mutual awareness of his embrace filled the carriage, making the silence inaudibly crackle.
He pressed a kiss on her silky hair, to reassure her. For an instant she went very still. Then her head turned up to him. He could not see her expression in the dark, but he had no trouble imagining its cautious confusion.
If not for the danger they had just faced, he might have resisted. If fate had not put her in his arms, he would have heeded the voice of reason chanting the hundred reasons why it was a disastrous mistake.
Instead, he took the step that would complicate everything, and perhaps undo plans laid a lifetime ago.
He kissed her.
She should have guessed the kind of kiss it would be. Even before his lips touched hers she should have known it would not be one of comfort. The mood in the air and the tightening of his arms warned her. So did the little infinity that spread to surround them while he looked at her.
He would have stopped if she had turned away. She did not doubt that. But his embrace felt so safe and the kiss did too. Startling, but sweet and gentle at first.
Not for long.
It changed in ways she could not ignore. The warm press grew insistent, then demanding. She permitted it because she did not know how to refuse. A new, awed part of her did not want to.
Her reaction, the thrilling excitement and deep inner flush, explained so much. Everything. Why being alone with him unnerved her. The reason his dark gaze made her flustered. The power behind his magnetic presence. The kiss was a little fulfillment of a nameless expectation that she had been experiencing with him for weeks.
It mesmerized her. The intimacy felt so wonderful. It awoke parts of her body and heart she had not known could feel this alive. It was the most astonishing, transforming thing that had ever happened to her.
He didn’t stop. The one kiss became many, each one burning into her, startling her again. On her lips and her face and her neck. A series of pleasurable shocks left her senses jumbled in a chaos of amazement.
The little infinity just grew and grew until what was happening became a dream taking place in the eternal darkness of a silent carriage. Nothing entered her mind except the wonder of it.
His teeth edged her ear, sending alluring chills through her body. His embrace wandered down her side, pressing through the thick cloth of his cape. “Are you still afraid?”
“No . . . yes . . . a little . . .”
“Of me now?”
He caressed her face, and his hand smoothed lower, to her neck. She could not believe what the meandering caress did to her.
“That is probably wise.”
She could not heed the little warning. The sensations streaming through her skin distracted her too much.
So did the next kiss. If his words suggested she stop this, his actions demanded that she not. The searching strokes of his fingers on her skin lured her into a wonderful madness. His passion was all in his actions—she was the one whose gasps and sighs filled the carriage.
He touched her mouth. He coaxed her lips open. Fingers sliding into her hair to hold her firmly, his teeth played at her, teasing with nips. His tongue flicked to touch hers, then entered.
The invasive intimacy sent deep, visceral thrills down to her hips. It served as a stark announcement of what they were doing and a bolder warning than his words had given.
The warmth of his embrace and the beauty of this small joining defeated her. She had never been held in any way in her life, let alone like this. Never been wanted by anyone. Never felt so alive in her essence. A poignant sigh of relief choked her. She wanted to nestle forever in this human connection.
He kept taking more. More of her body and will. He had her in a tiny place full of pleasure, where her selfness got blurred away.
“Are you still cold?”
She shook her head. They could be lying in the snow and she would not be cold.
He peeled away his cape and let it drop to the floor. Kissing her deeply, his fingers unlaced the tie of her cloak and pushed its edges back from her body. A chill shook her that had nothing to do with the temperature.
His chest crushed her arm. Without thinking, she slid it away and up around his shoulders.
A twig might have snapped, so clearly did the mutual embrace change him. His kisses became insistent and his caresses bolder. Her body reveled shamefully in its discoveries. The breast not pressed against his chest itched resentfully from the lack of contact. The whole of her silently urged his hand to move in different ways.
As if he heard, his caresses stroked lower. With long, warm lures through the thin silk, he touched her body with scandalous intimacy. Tilting his head, he kissed to the skin above her gown, then to the gown itself. The heat of his breath beckoned and she arched toward it. His mouth teased at her breast, nipping through the silk, closing on the tip.
It made her crazy. She had never thought anything could feel so good and necessary. The pleasure, and the desire for more, totally conquered her.
And he gave more. His embracing arm shifted her, so he could encompass her more securely. Even as he aroused one breast with his mouth, his hand slid up to titillate the other. He coaxed cries out of her and encouraged her to relinquish herself to the delicious euphoria.
She could not resist what was happening. She did not know how to. She did not want to.
He paused and gazed at her. She sensed a brittle tension rise in him, waver, and then soar higher. His hand swung back and knocked on the carriage wall.
He kissed her deeply and caressed her with a possessive hand that knew no restraint. The little pause had given her back a bit of sense, however. Reality intruded for an instant. She saw starkly what was happening and could not ignore the scandalous implications of how he now handled her.
He took her breast in his mouth again and stroked higher on her legs. She tottered on the edge of total abandon again. Her body desperately wanted to succumb and something uncivilized in her soul did too. The pleasure promised her that it would be wonderful. But another voice, barely surviving, warned it would be dangerous.
She forced her arm to drop from his shoulders. She leaned away. “We must not. You know we must not.”
It took all of th
e strength she had. Too much of her rebelled at the denial and prayed he would not accept it.
He looked at her. His hand still rested on her thigh, raising anticipations she dared not acknowledge. Even as he stopped he lured her.
If he kissed her again she would be undone.
He released his hold on her body. “Of course. You are right. The danger got the better of us both. People often forget themselves at such times.”
He eased her from his lap to the seat beside him and slipped her cloak around her again. Her heart twisted. He had offered an excuse for them both, but mostly for her.
He rapped on the wall again. He did not pull away or move to the other seat. He even kept his arm around her. It felt as if he did that out of kindness, so that she would not feel too embarrassed.
She sensed him putting distance between them despite their closeness. Before the carriage rolled to a stop, she knew that he intended to keep what had happened within the time and space in which they had just existed.
She should be grateful, but as he handed her out and escorted her to the door, a heavy sadness lodged beneath her heart.
The candles in the entryway barely illuminated his face as he walked her to the staircase.
“You should go to your chamber now, Diane. Have a maid clean your arm.”
His actions were as cool and courteous as ever, his words calm and bland. His composure astonished her. She could barely breathe.
She hurried up the curving steps. Halfway to the top, she glanced back. Daniel had not left. He watched her with an expression that caused her legs to go liquid.
He did not appear nearly as contained as he had acted and sounded. A male speculation flickered in his eyes, dangerously.
She suddenly understood the meaning of his first rap on the carriage wall. That knock had been a signal for the vehicle to keep moving and not return to the house. If she had not stopped him . . .
Face burning, she climbed the steps more quickly, a little worried that she would hear his step behind her.
She had come perilously close to being ravished in that carriage.
The Seducer Page 7