Zoe Page 12

  He was amused. “Again, you overstep your bounds. It’s a wonder your husband doesn’t put a muzzle on you.”

  Madame gasped and watched in shock as La Roque strode out. What nerve! Maybe she was wrong even to consider him for her baby. She stood there for a moment, perplexed and torn. Then she felt a delicate touch on her elbow. She was startled to find Sheridan standing at her side.

  “May I escort you? ” he asked. Before she could answer, he continued. “I think, Madame, that we each have a problem to which I may have the solution.”

  She was so surprised that she didn’t know what to say. She disliked Sheridan and was suspicious, but something in his eyes–perhaps a reflection of her own battened-down anger and desperation–urged her to listen to him.

  She gave a barely perceptible nod. He offered her his arm, and she folded hers around his. The moment she touched him, she became fully aware of his virility. It had been a long time since a man–any man, much less a young, strong one–had shown her this simple civility. She glanced up at him; her gaze traced his profile.

  She could guess what he wanted. He was handsome. He had money. He had a certain je ne sais quoi. She would feel no guilt, no guilt at all over what she was about to do.

  Together, they walked through the door.

  4 The night was chilled with the secrets of Château La Roque. All of the guests had retired for the evening, leaving the things unsaid to haunt the empty halls. Marianne slept peacefully in her room, dreaming of the pleasures of becoming a wife and eventually a mother. Bertrand Bouchard lay next to his wife, content that he had finally found a way to preserve the sanctity of his family and provide a happy future for his girls, but harboring the secret of his failing health.

  They at least were able to sleep, comforted by illusion. The other guests, however, didn’t fare as well. Madame lay awake, staring into the darkness. It had dawned on her at supper that she had cursed her daughter with the same fate that she’d endured– to be married to a man who wanted another, a mûlatresse at that. All she’d ever wanted was to protect Marianne, but the web of lies that she and Zoé had woven would do the exact opposite, and she was helpless against it.

  Flynn Sheridan sat in a chair in his room, smoking a pipe and stewing in hatred. How he’d suffered when his slaves walked away from his plantation and the bank took his property. What humiliation he’d endured. But that would soon change. He had a plan, one that would allow him to return to his former status, to claim his property again. He’d show them all, and that mulatto was the key.

  On the east wing, La Roque suffered under a different burden–the burden of discovering the depths of his own heart, and how much he wanted to share it with the mademoiselle up the hall.

  Turning over, he exhaled again. He grew increasingly uncomfortable in the large canopied bed. Restless, he sat up and stared into the dark candlelit room. Down the hall from him she slept, locked away from him, from his desires for her.

  He pushed back the covers and threw his legs over the side of the bed. For a moment, he sat there, reflective. Supper had been painful for him. This game they were playing was pushing him almost to the brink of madness. He couldn’t go through with it. He needed to talk to Zoé. He couldn’t let her pass up a chance at happiness and he wouldn’t take a wife. The idea of marriage terrified him no matter who the bride was.

  He twisted his neck from side to side, working out the kinks. Then he got up, took his robe from the chair and covered his nakedness. He left his chambers and went out into the dark, silent hallway. Passing through the corridor, he glanced out one of its cathedral-sized windows. A three-quarter moon hung low in the evening sky. It cast a silvery light across his face. It must be well past midnight, he thought. It was no time to wake a lady.

  But he had to. He had to free himself from this hold she had over him and free her as well.

  A sudden thought caused him to pause. Had she locked her door? Once more he felt a surge of anger toward Sheridan. That brute threatened to ruin everything.

  He continued down the hall, worried now, desperate.

  But no! Blessed relief. When he closed his hand around the cool brass knob of her bedroom, he found he could turn it easily.

  Pushing the door open, he stepped into her room. Her suite had a window that faced south, showcasing the moon and lighting the room in an unearthly glow. He closed the door, turning the key and locking it with care, before approaching her bed. At first, he saw only the tangle of her locks and the contour of her body under the sheets. Pausing to take in her beauty, he smiled to himself. Going closer, he saw her more clearly. She was on her side, her hair in her face. The covers, pulled up to her neck, prevented him from seeing much of her.

  He convinced himself that all he wanted to do was talk. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry and that he didn’t know why he had set about to destroy her when all he ever wanted was to know her. He brushed some of her long, tangled tresses from her face. She frowned and turned over, causing the sheet to slip and reveal the top of her gown.

  La Roque watched her chest rise and fall. He recalled the exquisite beauty of her breasts. He should go. Seeing her like this was making him forget the reason for this visit.

  As if his hungry stare had burned through her, she blinked and opened her eyes. Turning her head, she looked at him but showed no surprise. She stared at him, confused, and wiped at her eyes. He smiled, realizing that she thought she was dreaming.

  When she realized that he was actually in her room he saw her frown.

  “Mon seigneur, why are you here? ”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Zoé propped herself up on her elbows. The sheet slid further down her body, and he noticed the points of her nipples through her gown. She followed his gaze, saw what he fixed his eyes on and drew the sheet upward.

  “Is something wrong? ” she asked.

  La Roque was afraid to move. If he made any move it would be to touch her and he didn’t want to impose. In fact, he did want to impose and that was why he held back.

  “I can’t do this,” he whispered.

  “Do what? ”

  She sat up, pulled her hair from her shoulders and lifted the curls to free them from the collar of her gown. The movement revealed the graceful design of her neck and showcased her delicate features. Bathed in moonlight, her beauty took on a dreamlike quality. He swallowed hard, finally accepting the fact that she meant the world to him.

  “I can’t marry your sister. Your father must be told the truth. I shall compensate him for his troubles, but I can’t play this game with you and your mother.”

  “But you promised!” Panic swept across her face.

  “It won’t work. Besides, it’s not fair to your sister.”

  Her expression became knowing. “What do you need? ”

  He frowned. “Need? ”

  “You did not come to my room in the middle of the night simply to watch me sleep. I wake to find you hovering over me and I see a need, a need I don’t fully understand, but if you tell me I will oblige. I will give you whatever you want to save Papa.”

  He couldn’t speak. Her question was too direct and a truthful answer would be too revealing.

  “Why must matters be so complicated, mon seigneur? When I think of how you defended me, how you held me, the words you said. You confuse me. One moment, you are cruel– yes, cruel–and demanding. The next, you gaze at me as if I am your long-lost love. I don’t understand. I know I am young. Perhaps, you could explain.”

  She was right. If he wanted her, really wanted her, then he could easily make it happen. He could take her as his. They could be together. Something was wrong in the way that he hid from her, but reached out to her when she turned away.

  “I was wrong to come here,” he said, and turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  She pushed back the covers and got up. The stream of moonlight pouring into the room revealed the silhouette of her body in the thin gown. “Before you go, I mus
t ask you again: please, please don’t tell my father about us.”

  He waged an inner battle. He could see her lips moving, but couldn’t hear her voice. All he could hear was the beat of his own heart. She ran nervous fingers through her hair and kept talking. He watched her sweet lips move and felt his desire rising. No longer able to resist her, he reached for her.

  Caught off guard, she looked surprised, but her body was compliant as he drew her to him. She did not fight as he kissed her. Instead, she yielded her soft lips and returned the pressure. But when he ran his hands over the light fabric of her gown and gathered it up, drawing it up, she stepped back out of his embrace and regarded him with sadness.

  “I can’t do this with you. Not now, when my papa is down the hall.”

  “You asked me what I need. Bien, I need you.”

  She looked shaken, but backed away. “We have an agreement, and I will honor it, but we must…”

  “This is about us.”

  He reached for her again, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him.

  “Then what prevents you from having me? ”

  “Quoi?”

  “Ask for my hand in marriage,” she said.

  He stared at her. “I can’t.”

  “Because I’m a Mûlatresse? ”

  “Yes–no!”

  “You were willing to ask for Marianne’s hand to have me.”

  “That was your idea. I agreed in order to help you.” “You sent for Papa—”

  “To ask for you.”

  “To be your mistress.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? ”

  He stared at her. “What do you mean why? ”

  “Why do you want a mistress and not a wife? If you find slavery deplorable, then why do you wish to participate in it? ”

  “A mistress isn’t a slave!”

  “Even your friend Monsieur Sheridan was honest enough to say that it’s indentured servitude with a jeweled collar. Is that all that you want from this world? A beautiful woman to dress up in jewels and make love to in the moonlight, but no one to share your life with? ”

  He struggled to respond. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew is what he feared: marriage and surrender. He feared being vulnerable. By having a mistress, he could keep everything on his terms. How could he explain that to her without her seeing it as slavery?

  He touched her face. “I just need to be near you.”

  She put a hand over his and held it to her cheek, giving him hope.

  “You want me,” she said, “because I resist you. If I submit to your advances, will this burning need to possess me be extinguished? ”

  “I don’t know.”

  She drew away from his hand. For a moment, she studied him. “I have put myself in an impossible situation. To make matters worse, I have developed feelings for you.”

  “As I have for you.” He wrapped his hand around her neck, and pulled her to him, trapping her with his gaze.

  “My papa is down the hall,” she protested, but her voice was weak.

  “I can’t help that. I have to be near you again,” he said in a hoarse whisper and kissed her, softly at first. His kiss grew stronger and she opened her mouth to receive his probing tongue.

  With a groan of passion, he swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed, her arms linked around his neck. Gazing down at her, he nodded at her gown.

  “Take it off.”

  She searched his gaze. He could see in her eyes that she felt her fate was already sealed, that she had little left to fight for. Obediently, she pulled her gown over her head revealing a body that was even more beautiful than the first time he saw it. Gently tossing her gown to the floor, she lay down and watched as he untied his robe. He could see her interest at the sight of his nude body, and yes, see her hunger, as her gaze traveled over his body that was now also hungry with desire.

  But the moment he entered her bed, he saw fear grip her again.

  “Maybe, we should rethink this,” she said. “I mean… it is very disrespectful—”

  He put a finger to her lips, silencing her. He lowered his head to her abdomen and ran his tongue across her navel. With a moan, she lay back onto the pillows and surrendered to the pleasure of his touch.

  He kissed her stomach, and then inched upward. She felt the fire of his tongue on her breast, playfully teasing before devouring the entire nipple. His long hair fell across his face and grazed her skin, sending tiny sparks through her veins. The bristles of his pubic hair brushed her intimately as she moved her hips slightly, satisfied in ways that she didn’t know existed.

  “N’arrête pas,” she murmured, begging him to continue.

  Hearing her plea made him want to be a part of the warmth inside of her immediately. As he kissed her throat, he reached down and parted her thighs. He sensed her body tense and remembered that for her their first experience together had been painful as well as erotic. As the tip of his penis pushed through the tightness of her, she gripped the sheets and bit down on her lip.

  He stopped kissing her and gazed at her face as he nudged aside her left thigh to gain greater access. Thrusting into her, he heard her gasp and then relax as the wetness of her greeted his entry.

  “Are you all right? ” he whispered gently.

  She gave a little nod as she surrendered to the unknown feelings her body was experiencing.

  “Open your eyes, beautiful.”

  He enjoyed how tight a fit they were. He was giving her his full length, now, feeling her sheath him like exquisite velvet. Pushing in and out of her, he stared into her amber-brown eyes. “I am falling in love with you and that scares me.”

  He had not planned to say those words. He had not planned to say anything. They had slipped out of their own accord and now he couldn’t take them back. Caught by surprise, he realized that he didn’t want to.

  Her eyes widened. He could understand why. No doubt, she had imagined a lot of things with him but his using the word love was never one of them. She didn’t know what to say, which was acceptable. At the moment, they had another way of communicating their forbidden bond.

  He thrust deeper into her and her eyes closed, caught up in the moment.

  “Open your eyes,” he said.

  With a moan, she swallowed and looked at him.

  “I can’t marry you,” he whispered, “but I can’t lose you either.”

  She frowned, but then he pounded into her again and she shuddered in ecstasy. Now, her hips rose to receive each passionate thrust. Panting, she dug her nails into his back. He lowered his face to kiss her and lick the curve of her throat. He gripped her hips so he could drive himself in deeper.

  “Ma chère, you feel so good.”

  Still unable to speak, she could only moan in response. He slipped his tongue in her ear and she smiled at the feeling. “You taste so good,” he whispered and felt her shiver under him.

  He quickened his pace and bit softly into her shoulder. He slid his hand between her thighs and massaged her while he continued to thrust. He sensed her mounting excitement as she vibrated beneath him. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to hold back her cries from the orgasm she didn’t fully understand. He smiled down at her and whispered, “Give into it. I have to feel you let go. Feel it as you become mine.”

  She closed her eyes and arched her back. As he felt her climaxing, he too let go and exploded inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, feeling her breathing. He felt her turn her face to his, but he couldn’t see her because his hair hung wildly over his face.

  As he slid out of her and rolled on his side she rose up on her elbow and moved his hair from his face. He was still breathing hard but those deep mysterious eyes of hers glowed in the moonlight and stared into his soul. He was overwhelmed.

  “You said you loved me,” she whispered. “Is that true? ”

  He felt a last urge to resist, but it died away.

  “Answer me,” she said. “Is it true? ”

  �
�Yes,” he said softly.

  “So you love me, but you can’t marry me? ”

  He looked away.

  Zoé pulled his face back to hers. “What is going on? What are you so afraid of? ”

  “I don’t want to discuss it,” he snapped.

  “So, instead of facing it, you want to push me away? ”

  “Let’s not do this.”

  “Too late, mon seigneur. Too late because I love you, too. Now we have to find a way to make this right for us.”

  He reached for her curls. “You are so beautiful.” “Don’t change the subject.”

  “There’s no point to the subject.”

  “I plan to tell Papa the truth. I won’t have my sister marrying a man who doesn’t love her and I won’t make this easy for you. I will trust in my father’s love for me.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t let you go.”

  “You can’t make me stay. This has turned into a nightmare for so many. You were right to want to put an end to it.”

  “He will send you away!” he said.

  “Maybe, or maybe you will face whatever keeps you from me and prevent that.”

  “What are you saying? ”

  “I’m saying that if you love me, if you can’t live without me, then you will have to find a legitimate way to have me.”

  He pushed her away and sat up. He was silent. After a moment, he got up and retrieved his robe. Shouldering into it, he went to the door. Before leaving, he turned back to her.

  “Don’t tell your father anything, yet. Give me time to decide what… what I can offer you.”

  “How much time, Gianelli? ”

  “I don’t know. Just time.”

  “We are set to leave in two days and Marianne’s betrothal will be announced then. You have until then to decide if you want to live in fear or in love. If I must, I shall leave here and face whatever lies ahead for me. But I won’t regret anything that happened between us. I shall never regret giving myself to you.”

  He looked unhappy. “I don’t want to fail you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  He turned to leave and looked over his shoulder to see her one last time. He felt humbled. He had taken advantage of her, yet she had forgiven him. Despite everything, when he looked into her eyes, he found only trust there. It was the same trust that he’d seen in her eyes when he asked her to come into his room that night. He had set a trap for her, only to become caught in it himself.