by Connie Mason
“Does this cottage have a cellar?” Reed heard the soldier ask.
“Non, monsieur,” Lisette answered. “My parents built this house with their own two hands. My father did not dig a cellar.”
The soldier merely grunted.
The sound of receding footsteps did little to calm Reed’s ragged nerves. He needed to get out . . . now.
“I can’t do this, Fleur,” he whispered into her ear. “The soldiers are gone. I have to get out of here.”
Grasping his arm, Fleur prevented him from raising the trap door. “Not yet. Someone will come for us when it’s safe to leave. Please, Reed, you need to stay here with me.”
Reed began to shiver. “You don’t know. You can’t even imagine what it’s like for me. I spent days, weeks, in a pit barely large enough to turn around in, fighting off rats, deprived of light and companionship.”
“But you’re not alone this time,” Fleur soothed. “Kiss me, Reed.”
Reed barely heard her words. Panic sent his pulse soaring. Vividly he recalled being pulled from the pit, beaten, then returned to his private hell, broken and bruised, alone and forgotten. Though he couldn’t recall how long he had remained in the pit, he did remember praying for death. After what seemed like eons they had come for him, beaten him again and then placed him in a different kind of hell with other prisoners.
Fleur knew she wasn’t getting through to Reed. She could practically smell his fear. He was panting, and she could feel perspiration seeping through his clothing. If she couldn’t save him from his demons, there was no telling what he might do. She could still hear soldiers in the cottage and feared discovery. Fumbling for his hand, she grasped it and placed it on her breast.
“Reed, come back to me. Kiss me.”
Relief shuddered through her when she felt Reed’s hand tighten on her breast. His breathing, though still frantic, slowed. She smiled when his fingers searched for her nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. When he found her cheek with his other hand and turned her face into his kiss, she knew she had reached him in that dark place and that his demons were retreating.
Reed relaxed into the kiss like a drowning man seeking air. She melted against him, drawing him deeper into the kiss. She opened her mouth to his tongue, surprised by her own state of arousal. She was so lost in passion, she nearly failed to hear footsteps returning to the wardrobe.
Her lips moved against his. “Reed, stop! They’re coming back.”
Reed went still. Fleur strained to hear the murmur of voices.
“Are you satisfied, monsieur?” she heard Lisette ask. “If you tell me who or what you’re looking for, I might be of more help.”
A male voice rumbled in reply. “Since we didn’t find what we were looking for, there is no need for you to know.” A moment of silence and then he asked, “How long will your brothers be staying with you?”
Fleur realized he was asking about Antoine and Gaston. The plan was to introduce them as Lisette’s brothers should anyone ask.
“We will return to our wives and families soon,” Gaston answered. “We came to make sure our sister is well. She has recently been widowed and moved into our parents’ cottage.”
The soldier muttered something Fleur didn’t understand, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.
“Are they gone?” Reed whispered.
“We can only hope.”
A few minutes later the trapdoor was raised. Fleur blinked in the sudden light as Gaston’s face came into view.
“Are you two all right, Countess?”
“We’re fine,” Fleur answered. “Is it safe to come out?”
“They’re gone. I don’t think they’ll return any time soon.”
“Thank God,” Fleur said, nearly collapsing in relief. She didn’t know if Reed could have held up much longer. She hadn’t been aware of the darkness inside him. Or that he was fighting demons from his time at Devil’s Chateau.
Gaston reached down. She grasped his hand and climbed out of the hole, ducking out of the wardrobe as the servant offered Reed his hand.
Until now, Fleur hadn’t been aware of Reed’s fear of closed-in places. She knew he’d been beaten and starved, but this was the first time she’d heard him mention a pit. None of the others had spoken of the kind of torture Reed had suffered. Perhaps it was something they wanted to forget. If she and Reed hadn’t been forced to hide, Fleur would have never known about the inhumane method of torture the prison guards used to extract information.
“Are you all right, Reed?” Fleur asked when Reed emerged from the darkness.
“I’ve been better,” he said from between clenched teeth. “You and your friends are very clever. That was an excellent hiding place. If it’s safe, I think I’ll go bask in the sunshine awhile.”
Gaston sent him a curious look. “The danger is over for now, monsieur.”
Reed nodded and headed toward the front door. Fleur hurried after him. He didn’t go far. He sank down on the ground beneath a tree and lifted his face to the sun. Fleur settled beside him.
“Thank you for saving my sanity,” Reed said without looking at her. “I never thought I’d react so strongly to being confined in a dark place. I feel wrung out, emotionally drained. I hope the soldiers never come back, because I don’t think I could face that confinement again.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t know. It must have been terrifying for you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He gave a sheepish grin. “I liked the way you tried to distract me. You’re an astute woman, Fleur. I nearly lost my soul in that dark, frightening place I visit far too often in my dreams.”
They sat together in companionable silence. At length Reed said, “The arrival of those soldiers should be a warning. It’s time you left France, Fleur. You cannot continue like this—it’s too dangerous. I can’t bear to think of you locked up in Devil’s Chateau, or another prison equally offensive. I shall go to the village to meet with Andre myself. He needs to know what’s going on here.”
“No,” Fleur stubbornly objected. “I’ll know when it’s time to leave, and that day hasn’t arrived. Don’t worry, Reed. I can take care of myself.”
Gaston called them in to lunch. Reed rose, helped Fleur to her feet, and they returned to the cottage together.
“By the way,” Reed whispered to Fleur, “I enjoyed the kisses we shared. I want you, Fleur; that’s never been in doubt. Come to me tonight.”
Fleur was tempted. More than tempted. Kissing Reed had made her feel as giddy as a girl. Her body still thrummed. She wanted more, much more than kisses. But did she dare? She feared if she let Reed make love to her, she would never be the same; yearning for a man out of her reach would endanger lives and distract her. And Reed would most definitely be out of her reach, for she wasn’t ready to leave France yet.
She opened her mouth to deny Reed’s request but shut it when Lisette greeted them at the door. “There you are,” Lisette said. “Lunch is ready and I know monsieur must be hungry.”
Fleur gave Reed an apologetic look and followed Lisette into the kitchen.
As Reed prepared for bed that night, he thought about the pit and how Fleur had distracted him. If not for Fleur, he would have fallen apart and betrayed their hiding place. He’d had no idea he would react like that, not until he found himself enclosed in darkness so complete it had threatened his sanity.
Restlessly Reed prowled the bedchamber. His body was unsettled, his emotions ragged. Why wouldn’t Fleur listen to him? Why wouldn’t she take his advice? He’d been an undercover operative a long time, collecting battle plans, arsenal locations, troop assignments; experience told him it was time for Fleur to leave.
Reed couldn’t sleep. He stared at the door a long time, waiting for Fleur to come to him. When she failed to arrive, he became restless and edgy. He knew he would be leaving soon and couldn’t imagine leaving Fleur behind. He had no idea precisely what he intended until he found himself leavi
ng his bedchamber and standing before Fleur’s. He didn’t knock. The knob turned beneath his hand, and he let himself inside. The chamber was dark but for moonlight streaming through the single window, which had been left open to the cool night air.
Reed moved noiselessly to the bed. Fleur was sleeping on her side, her black hair stark against the white pillow, her hands folded beneath her cheek. She looked young, far too young to be involved in such dangerous work. As desperately as he wanted to, he decided not to awaken her. He turned to leave.
“Reed?”
He whipped around; her eyes were open, staring at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked sleepily.
Reed shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I waited for you to come to me and when you didn’t, I found myself at your door.”
Fleur sat up, reaching for him. “Are you ill? Were you thinking about Devil’s Chateau again?”
Reed stared at her hand upon his arm and eased down on the side of the bed. “It wasn’t the pit I was thinking about; I was waiting for you. I can’t stop worrying about you. Today was a warning you should heed. Tell me how to contact Andre. If I can’t convince you to leave, maybe he can.”
“Andre is gone. He won’t be back until he brings word that the ship has arrived for you.”
Reed spit out a curse. “Maybe I won’t leave.”
Fleur sat up straighter, letting the sheet slip down to her hips. “You have to go. Your grandmother needs you. You have a duty to the earldom.”
“I have a duty to my country. I was an operative before I was an earl. I can stay and help you.”
Even as he said it, Reed knew Fleur was right. He had another obligation now, to his family and his tenants. An earldom was a huge responsibility. He had never wanted it, yet it had come to him and he couldn’t let his grandmother down by ignoring his duty.
“Fleur,” he said thickly.
Fleur lifted a finger to his lips. “The subject is moot, Reed. Do you need laudanum to help you sleep?”
“No, I need . . . you. Only you, Fleur.” He reached for her. “Enduring the darkness beneath the ground today was pure hell, but you pulled me through. I want to make love to you more than I have wanted anything in my life. If I must leave without you, let me have this memory of you to take with me.”
Fleur opened her mouth to deny Reed, then thought better of it. What would it hurt to make love with Reed? They were both adults, and Reed was the first man to attract her both physically and emotionally since Pierre’s death. In Fleur’s mind there was only one reply to Reed’s need, and she could give it without speaking a word.
Circling his neck with her arms, she brought his head down to hers, the invitation implicit in her actions. Groaning, Reed joined their mouths, slowly lowering her against the mattress and covering her with his body. He kissed her until she was trembling with excitement. Knowledge of what would happen next shook Fleur to her very toes. It seemed like forever since she had felt the pressure of a man’s body against hers, inside hers.
“It’s been a long time for me,” Reed whispered against her lips, echoing Fleur’s thoughts.
“For me, too.”
She saw passion tightening his face, saw his silver eyes darken. She felt her breasts flush with heat. With a rough sound of need, he took her mouth again, bringing her hips against him with one hand and with the other stroking the curves of her trembling body.
Reed rose up on his elbows and looked down at her, his face dark and intense. “You want me as badly as I want you.”
“Oh, yes,” Fleur replied, helpless to do anything except follow the dictates of her body.
With a strangled sound of triumph deep in his throat, Reed tightened his hold, surrounding her in the heat and scent of his aroused body while his mouth returned to hers, kissing her nearly senseless.
Although Fleur had enjoyed making love with Pierre, it was different with Reed, more intense, more powerfully arousing. Pierre had been like a calm sea in a storm, while Reed was the storm itself, seething beneath churning waves of desire. With a cry of surrender, she fell headlong into the turbulence. Only to have it withdrawn when Reed broke off the kiss and rose up on his knees. A cry of protest escaped her lips.
“Raise your arms, sweetheart. I want you naked.”
Dutifully Fleur lifted her arms while Reed pulled the offending article of clothing up and away. It floated gracefully to the floor beside the bed. Seconds later, Reed’s clothing joined it.
Fleur stared at his body, clearly visible in the moonlight that fell across the bed. She found it difficult to believe that this was the same bruised and emaciated man she had taken from Devil’s Chateau. Though he was still on the thin side, he had slowly added muscle through exercise and a steady diet of nourishing food. Though nothing could be done about the scars, they wouldn’t interfere with his life or activities.
“What are you looking at?” Reed asked.
Fleur’s gaze lifted to his face. “You’ve made a great deal of progress in the past few weeks. You’re not the same man who arrived at the cottage.”
“It’s all due to you and your friends, Fleur. I owe you more than I can ever repay. Now shut up and let me love you. I’ve been waiting for this day since I first saw you.”
He lowered himself on top of her, melding their bodies together, hot skin against hot skin. She sighed as his mouth skimmed over her lips, her cheeks, down the slender column of her throat. His tongue flicked out to test the pulse at the base of her neck before moving down, licking a path between her breasts, leaving a trail of liquid fire.
Fleur moaned and clutched his head, holding him against her as his hot mouth found a nipple and sucked gently. She reveled in the naked heat and strength of him. She felt her nipple tighten, and she shivered in delight. When he moved his hand along her hip and thigh, she felt her body quicken and her blood thicken. When his hand moved between her thighs, she wanted to scream in joy. She was ready . . . more than ready; she opened her legs and stirred restlessly beneath him. Her body craved what she had denied herself since Pierre’s death. And she wanted it from this man. No other would do.
His fingers splayed to clasp her woman’s mound, delving into the dewy cleft of her sex. Fleur drew a sharp breath, her body stiffening.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured.
His husky whisper soothed her, coaxing her restless, needy body to soften even though the clamoring in her blood didn’t want to wait. She burned beneath his touch, her nipples aching points of flame. She lifted her hips in silent supplication as he parted the quivering silky folds of her flesh with his fingers.
Fleur mewed softly as his fingers grew bolder, exploring her slick flesh with tender strokes, sliding inside her, probing. His fingers came away wet with her dew; he held them up for her inspection.
Her lips quivered with embarrassment. This was different from anything she’d experienced with Pierre. This was titillating, naughty, wicked. “Reed, please hurry.”
Reed merely looked at her and flashed his dimple. His grin was a heady elixir. It flowed through her blood like molten honey. Instinctively she knew that Reed was an experienced lover, a rogue who lived to love and please women.
“We’re not even half done yet, Fleur. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman, and I want to savor the experience. For a time I feared I had lost desire forever, but then you proved me wrong.”
The words had scarcely left his mouth when he scooted down her body, pressing kisses against her navel. His tongue parted the thatch of hair between her thighs, searching for the tiny hooded bud nestled there. She felt the rough pad of his tongue flick out, stroking the dewy cleft between her thighs. He licked the hidden bud. She arched up into his mouth, crying out his name.
“Reed, stop! This is far too intimate. I cannot bear it.”
Reed lifted his head. “Did Pierre not love you in this way?”
She shook her head. “I would not allow it.”
Reed blinked. “Why not?
”
“The intimacy of it . . . was . . . too much.”
“Not if you loved him.”
Reed’s words hung in the air as he returned his attention to the sensitive flesh between Fleur’s thighs. Fleur’s moans grew progressively louder as Reed used his mouth and tongue to arouse her to heights never before reached. She felt her tender flesh swell, then burn beneath the relentless lapping of his tongue.
Suddenly she was writhing with frantic need, straining toward a frenzied explosion. She sobbed, clutching mindlessly at him, the world around her shattering. With an abandoned cry, she surged against his mouth.
Stretching up, Reed’s arms came around her to hold her trembling body as rapture claimed her.
Throbbing with the urgent need to possess the hot, aroused woman in his arms, Reed wanted very much to plunge into her softness, claiming her in the most primitive way. He watched her face as she climbed down from the heights of pleasure. He wanted desperately to feel her hands upon his body.
“Touch me, Fleur. Feel how hard I am for you.”
Deliberately he drew her palm over his flat belly, pressing her fingers against his throbbing sex. Her fingers curled around him. He jerked violently, pushing himself into her palm. The pleasure was almost more than he could bear. He needed to be inside her.
Now!
He spread her thighs, settled into the cradle of her hips and thrust forward. He entered her smoothly, seating his staff fully. He felt her muscles squeeze him and found heaven. He withdrew almost completely, intending to drive forward again, but Fleur must have mistaken his intention.
She grasped his hips and cried, “No, don’t leave me!”
“I won’t,” he vowed hoarsely.
Even as he spoke, her hips tilted up, giving him better access. Groaning, he moved forward and inward, going deeper, driving harder, faster.
Fleur tensed, holding her breath. Then Reed settled his lips over hers; she tasted her scent on his mouth, a taste both shocking and arousing. Her hands clutched the broad shoulders of the man straining above her, her loins rising to meet his. She felt his body tense moments before she burst into flame. The world spun away, and she rose up to meet it.