Never had she heard someone speak so boldly. Never before had she felt the impulses that now rioted inside her. Nor did she ever think the act between men and women could sound so appealing.
She looked away, desperate to break the allure, needing to quash the physical urges he incited and the desire for things she knew were impossible in her life. But he curled his fingers beneath her chin and turned her face back to his.
“Chère…” The unexpected endearment undermined her resolve. “Tell me you don’t want to live in that convent. Tell me the truth.”
It took a moment to locate her voice. “No. I do wish it.” Her words sounded pathetic. Weak.
He dipped his head, his mouth so close to her own. “I don’t believe you.” His breath mingled with hers, warming her lips. “Sex can be sheer rapture. Something no one should forgo. The greater the attraction of the two people involved, the more intense the encounter. If I were your lover, I would taste every part of your sweet form…starting at your ankles…kissing you lightly up the inside of your legs…” His provocative statement practically buckling her knees. “Or perhaps, we would simply begin with your inviting lips.” He lowered his head.
At the first touch of his mouth, he sent a hot rush streaming through her body, leaving her toes tingling. His kiss a decadent attack on her starved senses. Her long-dormant body was suddenly awash with desire she’d never imagined.
Overwhelmed, she fisted his shirt against his chest.
Pulling her away from the bedpost, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, and pushed his tongue past her lips, possessing her mouth with a thrilling thrust. She moaned. He kissed her with dizzying intensity, his tongue giving hers swirling caresses. Her heart hammered. Every inch of her quaked. This was like nothing she’d ever known. His taste was inebriating. The texture and heat of his mouth made her ravenous for more.
He stopped abruptly, pulling away.
She snapped opened her eyes, panting. Bereft. A tormenting need pulsed within her.
He was holding her at arm’s length, his expression unreadable, his emotions masked. Yet his accelerated breathing was not so easy to conceal. He’d been no less affected than she by the brief heated kiss.
Dear God, what was she doing? She’d only been out from the convent for a short time. How could her conduct have deteriorated to this level? Just because he had immense appeal and charismatic comportment? So what? Because when he touches you, he makes you feel like a woman. He makes you feel alive… She silenced the small voice inside her. None of that mattered!
After living ten years in a convent, accepting its way of life, she shouldn’t have landed herself in such a situation with any man. Much less a man some called the Black Demon.
A man who had deceived her and was now refusing to set them free.
Simon Boulenger had his own secrets to guard. And she wanted no part of them or any of this. She had enough to deal with.
Placing his hands on his hips, he released a sharp breath. “Dieu, we are playing with fire.”
Fire. What an appropriate word. She felt as though she was burning.
“This is not going to go any further,” he said.
She gave a nod, all too happy to agree, instantly squelching the disappointment inside.
“This game of intrigue ends tonight, Angelica. I am going to ask you for the final time, and I expect the entire truth—”
Holding up a shaky hand, she halted his words. “Do not ask. I’ve told you all that I am willing to say.”
A man who touched a woman the way he did wasn’t the sort of man who inflicted physical harm on one, of that she was certain now. However, for a moment, from the fury in his eyes, she thought he’d reached his limit of patience with her. She was convinced he would rage at her, hurl vicious words.
Instead, he turned and walked out.
*****
Simon stalked toward Gabriella’s chamber.
He was putting an end to the fascination he had with this green-eyed woman, permanently. Women had always been a pleasant diversion from the enormous demands and responsibilities placed on him, not a complete distraction.
And not one of them had ever driven him mad.
His sac was painfully full. His cock was stiff as a spike. And worse, the sweet taste of her mouth was consuming him. He was sorely tempted to turn around, satisfy her curiosity, sate his desire.
And end this sexual torment.
He couldn’t believe that a few sexual words and a kiss with a virgin could be so erotic.
She was drawing away what little focus he had, at the most dangerous time of his life. The time to reassert control was long overdue.
He would know Angelica’s secrets once and for all.
The door to Gabriella’s bedchamber opened. Domenico emerged with a string of curses. “Women! Who can understand the female mind?” He strode toward Simon.
Ignoring Domenico’s comment, Simon didn’t break his stride.
“Gabriella is very upset,” Domenico advised as Simon walked past.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I tried to calm her down. I told her we were not pirates.”
“Good.” Simon’s voice was bland.
“Then I kissed her.”
That halted his steps. Simon turned. “And how was that received?”
“She weeps harder now.”
Simon grunted. His mood was too foul to be amused over Domenico’s rebuffed advances.
“Damned unmanning situation,” Domenico muttered to himself. “One moment she’s receptive, the next she wails! I’ve no idea if she’s insulted. Or elated.”
At the moment, he didn’t care a whit about Domenico’s amorous difficulties. “I want a watch placed on the women here in the hall. They’re to be kept apart until the departure.” He wanted no more plotting between the two. “Find Paul. He can sit for the first watch.”
*****
Simon found Gabriella standing near the window, staring into the night.
When she turned her red-rimmed eyes toward him, they changed from dispirited to wary in an instant.
He schooled his features into a pleasant smile, and closed the door softly. Walking to the table in the middle of the room, he motioned to one of the chairs. “Please be seated, Gabriella. I merely wish to speak with you.” He could see she was skittish.
Reluctantly, she walked over to him and sat on the chair he held out. Making his way around the table, he seated himself across from her.
“Wh-Where is Angelica? What have you done to her? I want to see her.” Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
“There is no need to be afraid. Angelica is fine, I assure you.” He kept his tone gentle, not wishing to have the overly emotional woman in hysterics, knowing she’d be no good to him then. “Tell me, have you and Angelica been treated well here?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Well then, if my intentions toward either of you were malevolent, would I be so obliging? Did I not help Angelica at the convent? Attend to her well-being and yours? Did I not give you new gowns?”
“Yes… You’ve been kind.”
“Has Domenico not been kind, attentive, and maybe even a little…taken with you?”
She blushed. The threat of tears, thankfully, had disappeared. “He’s been very nice.” Her tone and manner were a clear indication of her budding romantic interest in his commander.
Simon found himself, for the first time, a little envious of Domenico. His conscience wasn’t burdened as Simon’s was, and he didn’t carry the weight of leadership on his shoulders. Domenico followed his orders, and his own personal desires, unencumbered. He was free to pursue Gabriella if he wished. He could offer as much or as little as he wanted.
Simon’s life was a mess, and thanks to his involvement with Fouquet, corrupted. All he was prepared to offer any woman was a night of casual diversions. Angelica was desirable and definitely worth having, but his soul was blackened enough without compounding his misdeeds by
taking her virginity just to satisfy his own selfish wants.
“Is it true what Domenico says? You are not pirates?”
“No, we are not.”
She gave him a slight smile.
Encouraged by her reaction, he continued. “We are returning home in a few days. Have you heard of the West Indies?”
“Yes. I’ve heard.”
“I would like you and Angelica to come with us. The weather there is mild. The island of Marguerite is quite beautiful. You will stay with us as our guests for a while. I know Domenico would like it very much if you would come. What say you?”
She blushed again. “I think I would like that.”
“Excellent. Now then, Gabriella, you’ve told me a little about the convent. Can you tell me a little more?”
“All right.”
“I know that within the convent there is an orphanage. Were you a part of the orphanage, Gabriella?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been at the convent?”
“Since I was a small child. Fever claimed both my parents’ lives. The good Sisters at the convent provided me with a home.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. It was undoubtedly a difficult time for a young girl.”
She gave him a sad shrug.
“What about Angelica? When did she enter the convent?”
“Ten years ago, when she was fourteen and I was thirteen.”
“Did you receive schooling there?”
“Yes. Madre Caterina, God rest her soul, insisted we learn to read and write.”
“And Angelica learned to read and write there as well?”
“No. She already knew how when she came to us. She would often help the younger girls.”
“Really?”
Gabriella brightened. “Angelica is a wonderful teacher. You should see her work with the children. They adore her. And her singing.”
His head was suddenly filled with the haunting song she had sung that night in the chapel. It was a sound he hadn’t been able to forget.
“Madre Caterina used to say that Angelica would make a truly wonderful nun one day.”
Simon fought back his sudden urge to oppose the notion vehemently. “Oh? Why do you say that?”
“Why, she’s kind, always selfless, always giving an encouraging word to all at the convent. Angelica is very bright too. She is the most intelligent person I know. Why, she will look at something and see it seven different ways that wouldn't even occur to me.”
He held back a smile at Gabriella’s praise of her friend. “What about Angelica’s parents? What do you know about them?”
Gabriella lowered her eyes. “Not much. I know that Angelica adored them and that her father died first, followed by her mother sometime later.”
“What else?”
“That is all.”
Simon raised his eyebrows. “All? What were their names? What is Angelica’s full name?” His questions rushed out quick and sharp, fatigue threatening his patience.
“I-I do not know…”
Her words yanked him to his feet, his chair scraping backwards against the wooden floor. Gabriella started, her eyes growing wide.
“Do you expect me to believe that you don’t know the identity of a female whom you claim to be as close to as a sister?” he asked, incredulous. “You know nothing of her family, who they were, what they were?”
She shook her head. “N-No, I do not.”
He pressed his palms down on the table between them. “You. Lie.”
She burst into tears. “I do not lie! I-I asked her once, years ago. It caused her such obvious pain and upset that I never asked again.” Tears continued to spill freely down her cheeks. “I would never cause her the slightest suffering. Whatever happened sometime in the first years of her life was obviously very difficult. It matters not to me or anyone else at the convent what her name is.”
He couldn’t believe this! “Do you know where she was born? Where she lived before coming to the convent? How she came to learn French?”
“No. No. No! She arrived during the night, ten years ago. I-I was completely unaware that she understood your language.”
“It wasn’t taught in the convent?”
“No. Never.”
Simon hung his head, holding in the profanity bellowing in his brain. He’d been certain Gabriella knew all of Angelica’s secrets.
The entire conversation might as well not have taken place. Nothing was gained. He still had more questions than answers. All he’d done was upset Gabriella.
She was back to sobbing audibly, abrading his sleep-deprived, agitated nerves.
Chapter Eight
The day of departure had arrived. The morning sun shone, but its warm rays didn’t soothe Angelica.
Not when anger roared inside her.
Though she hadn’t seen Simon since their kiss, at the moment, nothing would give her more satisfaction than to drown him in the very sea that surrounded her.
She looked across at the two men rowing their small boat toward the large ships. They were grinning at her. Self-conscious, she folded her arms over her chest, trying her best to shield the top curves of her breasts showing above the neckline of her fitted taffeta gown.
Ignoring their soft chuckles, she looked away, searching the people on the shore and the other tenders for Gabriella.
She was furious with Simon and his self-imposed authority over her and Gabriella. He’d kept them apart for two days and was too occupied to speak to her, no matter how many times she demanded it. She was livid about being forced to embark on this voyage and angry with herself for having failed to find a way of escape. She hated that Simon had introduced her to his luscious kiss—and that it had had such a potent effect on her.
And she hated that she was wearing the gown fit for an Aristo.
A breeze blew across her bare shoulders—a blatant reminder of her mode of dress. She couldn’t believe she was out in public without her convent garb. It might have been drab and dull, but it made her feel connected to the one place that had kept her safe, alive and hidden. Wearing the familiar loose-fitted garment gave her a sense of comfort. Without it, she felt naked—in more ways than one.
Simon had no right to have it destroyed.
She still seethed over how Marta had tricked her into giving up her clothes last night for laundering and had returned this morning with the rich blue dress and underthings she now wore.
“The captain says that since you’re no longer in a convent, there’s no need for you to dress that way,” Marta had advised. Once again Angelica had demanded to see him, intending to vent her outrage, but as before, he refused, advising through his servants that he was too busy with the imminent departure to attend to her dress dilemma.
Dress dilemma!
It wasn’t a trivial matter. The convent garb was a reminder of her future. And after his kiss, she needed all the reminding she could get. For the last two days, she hadn’t been able to take her mind off it or his seductive words.
Slowly he was stripping away pieces of her comfortable existence. Gone were her freedom, her peace of mind, and now her convent clothes. She felt unnerved, desperate to hold on to something familiar. And he wasn’t letting her.
In all these years, she hadn’t worn a color other than gray. Dressed in a gown that molded to her body, she hadn’t recognized the image staring back at her in the mirror that morning. Nor had she taken much notice of how much her body had changed since the last time she’d worn a gown this fine—and fine wasn’t strong enough to describe the luxurious feel of the fabric against her skin.
She blamed Simon for this too. She didn’t want to miss the things he was showing her when she finally returned to the convent.
Nearing the large ship, she spotted Gabriella on one of the tenders. She looked well. Thank God… At the moment, there were only two things Angelica was grateful for: first, she was leaving France. And second, having been told that she’d be reunited with her friend on b
oard the ship, she was grateful she’d have Gabriella with her.
The idea of being on the same ship as Simon for weeks was unnerving without her.
They reached the first ship, and a rope ladder was tossed down from the deck above. The men in the tender held their small boat as still as possible as it bobbed alongside the much larger sea vessel. Angelica grabbed the ropes and looked up to see two men waiting for her on deck. From their vantage point, they could easily look down her gown. She gritted her teeth, trying to banish the thoughts of inflicting extensive bodily harm on their leader, and slipped her foot onto the rope ladder. She began her ascent.
When she reached the top, the two men on board helped her over. With her feet securely on deck, she spotted Gabriella’s tender again. Sitting beside Domenico, Gabriella waved to her with a large smile.
Before she could wave back, one of the men on deck began pulling the rope ladder up.
“What are you doing?” Angelica asked. “The ladder is still needed.”
“Excuse me, mademoiselle?” She turned to the tall blond man addressing her. “My name is Mathieu Godeau. I am second in command here. Is there a problem?”
“Yes, my friend is coming on board, and this man is taking away the ladder.”
“I’m sorry. You’re mistaken. She is being placed on another ship.”
“What? No. You’re wrong. Gabriella is to be on this ship. I was advised by—” Her next word was going to be Marta. Marta. The same woman who’d lied to her on behalf of her master about laundering her garment. How could she be so foolish?
“By?” Godeau pressed.
“Never mind.”
“As you wish. If you will please follow Denis to your cabin…”
A dark-haired, burly man approached her.
“No, I will not. Where is your captain? I wish to speak to him.”
“He has not come aboard yet. If you will follow Denis—”
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