‘Why is it?’ Lisette stood up restlessly.
She now felt refreshed from her hours of sleep. Enough so that she had given thought to her present dilemma, and although she might accept that going to England with the Comte seemed the logical choice—the safest choice—for the moment, she could not think of remaining there. She was French, knew no other life than the one she had led with the Duprées, and briefly with Helene Rousseau here in Paris. One life was closed off to her, the other she had no wish to re-enter.
Even so, Lisette knew nothing of England or the English, apart from the fact they had been at war with France, under Napoleon’s rule, for so many years.
She gave a shake of her head. ‘I am sure I cannot be the first bastard child you have ever heard to have been fostered with strangers.’
‘Unfortunately not,’ he acknowledged tightly. ‘But it is usual for that child to be aware they are being fostered. And who their real mother is.’
Was Lisette imagining the question in Christian’s voice as he made that last comment? Did he doubt her claim of knowing nothing of Helene Rousseau’s existence until just weeks ago?
‘I assure you I did not,’ she answered him tartly. ‘Nor do I have any idea who my father is.’
‘Madame Rousseau has not confided in you?’
‘No.’ Lisette stood in front of the window, the slowly flowing Seine glittering like silver in the moonlight. ‘I am not sure I wish to know either, considering the...the type of man I know frequents the Fleur de Lis.’ She repressed a shudder of distaste at the thought of one of the loutish and lowly men she had encountered there these past few weeks being her father.
Christian could totally sympathise with this sentiment after his visit to that establishment the evening before.
‘Which brings me to another point, mon—Christian,’ she corrected at his frowning glance. ‘Whatever you may have assumed to the contrary, I am nothing like Helene Rousseau. I have not, nor do I intend to take a lover or series of lovers.’ Embarrassed colour glowed in her cheeks.
No doubt from thinking of the kisses the two of them had shared the night before. Far from innocent kisses, which could so easily have led to something deeper.
Christian’s mouth twisted into a smile. ‘I believe you will find I am somewhat...incapacitated, in any case, in that regard at present!’
‘I am glad you find me so amusing, Christian.’ She shot him an irritated glance for this show of levity. ‘But your wounds will eventually heal.’
‘You then expect I shall proposition you into agreeing to become my mistress?’ Christian was finding this conversation less and less amusing by the minute.
Her cheeks flushed prettily. ‘I can think of no other reason why you might take me to England with you.’
Christian wished that were the case! ‘And if I were to make you a promise that I shall attempt not to do so?’
She blinked. ‘Are you making me such a promise?’
Christian’s jaw tightened. ‘That I will promise not to attempt to do so, yes.’
She gave a typically Gallic sniff. ‘Then I suppose that will have to do. But I still maintain that you cannot seriously expect to be able to travel back to England tonight. You will need to rest for several more days before even contemplating such a journey.’
‘Whilst I have every confidence in François and my other employees here,’ Christian bit out, ‘I do not wish to put any of them in further danger by remaining in Paris longer than is necessary. I am well enough to travel to the ship later this evening,’ he continued as she would have spoken. ‘After which time I will retire to my cabin and, with your assistance, continue to rest for the remainder of the journey ho—to my estates in England.’ He inwardly cursed himself for almost slipping up and calling England ‘home’.
He knew he would have to reveal the truth of his identity before they docked in England. He had already sent on ahead for his ducal coach to be waiting for them at the quayside when they arrived. But, as he’d already decided, he would not do so until the ship was well under way and Lisette had no choice but to accompany him.
His appeal for her assistance on the journey, of playing upon the softness of her heart, was his way of ensuring she accompanied him.
Christian deplored even that subterfuge in regard to this young woman who had surely saved his life the previous night. And he fully intended to make his feelings on the subject known to Aubrey Maystone when he made his report to the older man; Lisette was not to come to any harm or Maystone would answer directly to him. But, powerful as the Duchy of Sutherland undoubtedly was, Christian knew that would still be no guarantee in regard to Lisette’s future safety.
‘I suppose that will have to do, if you are set on the idea...’
‘I am,’ Christian confirmed tautly. ‘To that end, François has already arranged for my bags to be packed and the coach to be ready to leave for the docks in one hour’s time.’ And on this occasion Christian would ensure that the groom and driver accompanying them would be armed and ready to fight off anyone who tried to stop them from reaching the dockside.
Lisette realised, by the determined set of the Comte’s jaw, that nothing she had to say would succeed in persuading him into altering those plans.
Having only just removed and hung up her new gowns and put away the pretty undergarments, Lisette now realised she would have to repack them all; grateful as she was for the new clothes, she still blushed to think of the intimacy of having Christian Beaumont order such things for her. No matter what he said to the contrary, it had the definite feel of a patron bestowing largesse upon his mistress.
Perhaps once she was in England, she would be able to find respectable employment for a time, and in that way repay him for the purchase of the new gowns and undergarments?
If so, Christian was right; she would need to learn and speak English. ‘Very well, monsieur.’ This time Lisette ignored his frown of disapproval; if they were to travel to England together, then the formalities must be maintained in order to keep a distance between the two of them. A distance that had already been breached. Several times... ‘I will return to my bedchamber and pack my own things now, and be ready to leave within the hour.’
Christian nodded his approval; he could not abide a woman who fussed and flounced and generally made a hullaballoo when it came to doing anything asked of her. Not that he had expected that of Lisette; she had already shown, time and time again, that she was made of much sterner stuff than to throw a tantrum because her plans had taken a sudden turn.
And he would protect her once they were in England, he vowed fiercely.
Against all and anyone who tried to harm her.
* * *
‘I had no idea that sailing could be so invigorating as this!’ Lisette smiled her happiness as she swept into Christian’s cabin aboard the elegant sloop the following morning.
Any doubts that Christian might have had in regard to Lisette being a ‘good sailor’ had been dispelled the night before when, once on board the fast sloop, she had stayed up on deck conversing with the captain, who could speak and understand a rudimentary smattering of French—despite Christian’s urgings for her to stay below deck—during the whole process of the ship setting sail and leaving the harbour.
This morning she looked even more bright-eyed and happily flushed in the cheeks.
Whereas Christian was in great discomfort from the wound to his thigh. Indeed, he had only managed to remove his boots the previous night before collapsing onto the bunk bed in which he now lay. He had then tossed and turned for most of the night, the swaying of the ship not helping in the slightest.
‘At least one of us is pleased with the arrangement,’ he snapped in disgruntlement.
Lisette’s eyes widened at this show of bad temper from Christian; he had always seemed to be so calm and unruffled in t
heir acquaintance to date. Even when he had been shot.
She studied his appearance more closely; his boots had been removed, but otherwise he seemed to have slept in his clothes—possibly because he had been unable to undress completely without assistance?
Assistance Lisette was ashamed to admit she had not thought to offer the previous night, in her enchantment with remaining on deck to watch as they set sail for England.
Christian’s hair was also tousled and unkempt, there were dark shadows beneath those lavender-coloured eyes and his face had a greyish cast to it. Not a particularly good sign, but far better that he be pale in the face than flushed with a fever.
‘I believe you will need to undress, so that I might look at your wound again,’ she announced lightly—in an effort to hide the embarrassment she felt at the thought of the two of them being alone here when she helped Christian to remove his clothes.
She had not considered that, in her relief on discovering they had been given separate cabins aboard the ship, she would find herself completely alone with Christian when she came to his cabin; François had always been present when she had dressed Christian’s wound whilst they were in Paris.
Christian scowled up at her. ‘Do I look as if I am capable of undressing?’
Yes, the Comte was decidedly out of sorts this morning. ‘I meant with my assistance, of course,’ she came back pleasantly.
‘Are you sure?’ He quirked an impatient eyebrow. ‘I would not wish to keep you from going up on deck and enjoying the rest of the voyage or to “damage your reputation”!’
Lisette ignored the jibe. Not only was it unworthy of the man she had come to know, but they must both be aware, even occupying separate cabins as they were, that her reputation would be ‘damaged’ forever, just from her having travelled alone with him to England.
Lisette had considered at the time, and still did, that it was a small price to pay in exchange for escaping, even only for a while, the life she had been forced to lead in Paris.
‘I will help you to undress,’ she repeated briskly. ‘And then go and beg some hot water from the ship’s cook to first help you wash and then to cleanse your wound. I will also need to acquire something I can use for clean dressings.’
‘No doubt you are now on speaking terms with all the crew!’ the Comte snapped accusingly as she crooked an arm beneath his to help him sit up higher against the pillows.
Yes, definitely out of sorts—and rude with it. ‘The Captain was kind enough to introduce me to his officers and the men in the galley last night, yes,’ Lisette answered distractedly, her expression deliberately neutral as she peeled the fitted jacket from him, before untying and removing his cravat and unfastening the buttons on his shirt.
Some of which she was sure Christian could have done for himself last night, but had perhaps been too tired or irritable to do so, after struggling to remove his boots. Men, her maman had once warned her, did not make good patients—mainly because they had no patience with their own weakness in having become sick in the first place. Although that could not be said of Christian’s current predicament, when he had come by his present injury through no fault of his own.
Except in showing a marked interest in her.
Her own guilt over that was enough to cause Lisette to hold her tongue in regard to Christian’s uncharacteristic bad temper as she lifted and then removed the shirt from his body.
Her breath caught in her throat when she turned back from depositing the soiled shirt on the floor and found herself looking at Christian’s completely bared chest.
And what a chest it was—lightly tanned, with tautly defined muscles and just a light dusting of blond hair in the centre of his chest and tapering down to the waistband of his pantaloons.
Pantaloons Lisette now had to remove if she was to inspect and re-dress the wound on his thigh.
Christian inwardly acknowledged he was being less than gracious, let alone gentlemanly, this morning and, sensing Lisette’s reluctance when it came to the unfastening of his pantaloons, he deftly released the buttons himself. But there was little he could do to help in regard to removing them; his leg now felt so stiff and sore he could barely move it.
Lisette’s slightness of stature, and the height of the bunk bed upon which Christian lay, meant that her breasts were almost on a level with his chest, allowing soft wisps of her silky hair to brush across the bareness of his skin as she bent over the bed and struggled to peel back the pantaloons.
His manhood, in complete rebellion with how debilitated the rest of his body felt, instantly sprang to attention. Noticeably so, as Christian finally lay back weakly against the pillows wearing only his drawers.
That weakness was no doubt being increased because all the available blood seemed to have now gathered in his engorged member!
Had he ever suffered such an embarrassing moment as this before? Not that Christian could recall, no.
‘I will go and collect some hot water from the galley.’ Lisette was obviously aware of his physical response, her cheeks having flushed a becoming pink as she deliberately kept her gaze above the waistline of his drawers before she turned away and hurried from the cabin.
Christian stared up at the ceiling as he cursed the physical evidence of his arousal and wondered how he could possibly feel desire at a time like this. Admittedly, Lisette looked beautiful this morning, in her gown of pale grey and her face aglow with good health and humour, but that really was no excuse for such an ungentlemanly display of visible arousal. Not that he had any control over the matter, but still...
As a consequence, he was not in the least surprised to see Lisette was accompanied by a young man when she bustled back into his cabin several minutes later.
‘Davy is Cook’s galley assistant,’ Lisette introduced in an offhand manner as she stood aside to put on an apron the cook had also given her, whilst Davy placed the bowl of water down upon the chest of drawers beside the bunk on which the Comte reclined, a sheet now covering his lower body.
She could not quite bring herself to look directly at Christian as she laid down the clean towels and the cloths she had brought with her to use as a dressing, her cheeks having warmed the moment she re-entered the cabin, at the memory of his physical arousal. She had been more than happy to accept Cook’s offer of having his young assistant return to the cabin with her.
She was more grateful than ever for Davy’s presence, having thrown back that covering sheet—and just as quickly replacing it again—after discovering that Christian had managed to remove his drawers in her absence and was now completely naked beneath that flimsy sheet.
Lisette pressed her lips together to stop herself from gasping out loud. Which in no way helped to eliminate the image now firmly imprinted in the forefront of her brain.
She had been too tired, whilst attending to Christian’s wound through the night at his home in Paris, to be overly concerned by the dangerously predatory man himself.
A night of deep, restful sleep and the exhilaration of sailing to England, and Lisette found it far less easy to dismiss the raw masculine beauty of the man—flat and muscled abdomen, lean hips and long elegant legs, with dark blond curls surrounding his still semi-erect member.
The same man who just minutes ago had physically responded so visibly merely to her proximity.
As she now felt her own body responding to him...
Since meeting Christian, and being kissed by him, Lisette now recognised these signs of arousal in her own body for exactly what they were—the warmth in her cheeks, the tightness of her breasts, the tips sensitive and tingling, and the sudden damp heat between her thighs.
She sensed lavender-coloured eyes upon her as she arranged the sheet over Christian in such a way as to save them both further embarrassment, her movements deliberately brisk as she had Davy assist her in removing the soiled b
andage. ‘The Captain says we have made good time, the tide and winds having been kind to us, and so should be arriving in Portsmouth within the hour,’ she remarked conversationally after folding back the bandage and looking at Christian’s wound.
It looked raw and uncomfortable, but there did not appear to be any unusual sign of redness or pus, either back or front of that muscled thigh. No doubt Christian’s discomfort was mainly caused by the exertions created by his having insisted they set sail last night, rather than remain in Paris to rest his leg and allowing the wound to heal, as she had advised he should.
Not that she was about to rebuke Christian for that again; he did not appear to be in the sort of mood today to tolerate any such chastisement, from her or anyone else.
Although she very much doubted he would be well enough to continue with their journey on to London by coach once they had reached Portsmouth; just the thought of his being jostled and bounced about inside a coach for hours was enough to make her wince.
‘Cook has given me a salve to apply to your wound.’ Lisette looked down dubiously into the stone jar before lifting it to her nose and sniffing at the contents. The mixture was a rather unattractive shade of pale brown, and she thought she could also detect the smell of lavender and cinnamon, no doubt in an attempt to override the strong smell of goose fat. ‘Perhaps once I have cleansed the wound it would be as well not to tamper with the body’s own healing qualities.’ She quickly placed the stone jar back on the bedside cabinet before wiping her hands on her apron.
Christian’s discomfort had eased since the bandage and soiled dressing had been removed, and he now held back a smile as he saw Lisette’s obvious distaste for the cook’s salve. ‘Perhaps that would be as well,’ he conceded drily.
Of course his tension might have been eased simply because he now knew he would be back on English soil within the next hour. In truth, the swaying and pitching of the sloop had almost certainly added to his suffering during the night. Just the thought of being able to depart this infernal swaying boat was enough to lift his spirits somewhat.
Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger Page 8