Zoe Page 14

  Bouchard looked up from his game, startled and concerned. Marianne dropped La Roque’s arm and flounced back to the piano. The count made his excuses and went in search of Zoé.

  He found her walking down the corridor toward the east wing. He loved the way her hair, which was pinned up away from her shoulders, cascaded around her face. Recognizing an air of loneliness about her, he hesitated to approach her, as he was no closer to offering her a solution than before. When she turned the next corner, he followed her. She paused before a window and stood looking out. The window gave her a beautiful view of his land, but from her preoccupied expression, he doubted that she saw any of it. For several seconds, he simply watched her.

  “Zoé? ” Her name left his lips without his even realizing it.

  She blinked, as though coming back to herself, saw him and forced a smile. “Oh, bonjour.”

  He walked up to her and caressed her cheek. “You are very sad,” he said. “I never wanted that.”

  “We need to talk. Something has been brought to my attention and I need your counsel.”

  He frowned. Had something occurred in his absence? He led her to a room off the side of the wing. “What is it? ”

  “My papa…”

  “What about him? ”

  “He’s sick.”

  “Sick?”

  “He has a heart problem, and he’s not to be stressed.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, taking her into his arms.

  She rested her head on his chest. “I can’t tell him about us, not unless…”

  His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes. “I don’t mind telling your father my feelings for you but... he will expect me to make a commitment.”

  She straightened up and gazed into his face. “You’re still afraid, aren’t you? ”

  “You said you would give me time.”

  “Well, time is short.”

  “I won’t be pressured.”

  He walked away, clenching and unclenching his fists. Zoé went to him and took his hand. She placed it on her warm, soft breastbone, letting him feel the strong heart beating underneath.

  “Don’t you understand? My heart beats for you, and you only. I want to be with you always. I want to protect you, to love you. I want to have your babies and tend to your needs. You have nothing to fear in my love.”

  He snatched his hand away. “Why do you keep saying that I’m afraid? ”

  “Because I know fear. I have lived with it all my life: fear that my maman would be taken from me, fear that my papa would one day give into the demands of his wife and send me away—and that may happen. Fear is something that I am very familiar with and so I know you are terrified.”

  Hesitant, he reached out and touched her face. “How did you become so wise? ”

  “I’m a woman now, and a woman knows her own heart. She also knows the heart of her lover. You can push me away but I see through your actions. I won’t let your fear keep us from the truth.”

  He searched her eyes and saw that she meant it. With a groan, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, surrendering to his need to hold her again.

  EF Neither La Roque nor Zoé had seen Sheridan peek around the corner to witness them enter the room. Nor had they seen his evil and calculating smile. He’d followed La Roque from the parlor. Now he returned to it with a sense of malicious glee.

  He found the others much as he’d left them. Bouchard had fetched himself some reading, but Madame continued poring over her Bible and Marianne was still at the piano.

  “Marianne,” he said, “your sister asked me to bring you so we can go riding again. The Count is excited about taking you on another tour of his land.”

  “How exciting!” she cried.

  Madame frowned. “Where are they? ”

  “Waiting for us near the stables. Don’t worry. Your

  sweet Marianne is safe with me.”

  Bouchard frowned. “Just the same, Marianne is not to be in any man’s company without a proper escort.” “Bertrand, they’ve been riding. Monsieur is a fine gentleman; Marianne is well in his care.”

  “She is safe with me,” offered Sheridan with a curt bow. Bouchard looked to his wife who nodded and he gave his permissive nod as well. “Not too long. You girls are to return shortly.”

  “Oui, papa”

  EF Zoé moaned as La Roque’s breath and kisses warmed her neck. His nimble fingers began to untie the ribbons at the back of her dress.

  “Gianelli, what are you doing? ”

  “Must I explain it? ” he whispered.

  Zoé tilted her head back as his kisses traveled to her

  collarbone, then to the swell of her breast. She desperately wanted to repeat what had transpired between them last night. Never in her life had her body felt so hot and eager for anything or anyone. She rubbed her thighs together as the fire he ignited made her wet with anticipation. At the same time, she could not forget that their love was not only forbidden, but dangerous.

  “I’m loving you,” his voice sang through her veins and pierced her heart.

  “We shouldn’t,” she groaned.

  He paused, kissing her. “You said you wanted to take

  care of me. Right now, I’m suffocating from my need to have you. Put me out of my misery. Let me have you once more.” He gripped her hips and pressed her to him, making her aware of his throbbing manhood.

  She gasped. Unable to resist any longer, she pushed his topcoat from his shoulders while kissing the side of his face.

  “You take my breath away,” she whispered.

  “As you do mine,” he said, kissing the curve of her throat and struggling to unravel her corset lacing.

  “Let me help you.”

  Reaching behind, she unhooked the straps in the back of her corset to loosen it. She then popped the buckles and freed her breasts.

  La Roque stepped back and feasted on her beauty. She had perfectly round breasts with perky dark chocolate nipples that called out to him.

  Smiling, she untied her skirt and let if fall slowly to the floor. She hooked her thumb into the waistband of her decency slip, also letting it drop to the floor and stepping out of it. That left her in her ruffled knickers and stocking legs. The knickers fit her thighs snugly. They were connected to single straps that adjusted to the band around her waist. This offered him an inviting view of her treasures.

  She kicked off her shoes and reached for the top of her waistband to remove her knickers.

  “Leave them on,” he said, aroused by the way they fit her hips and connected to her stockings.

  As she stood before him, exposed and vulnerable, she saw wonder in his eyes. It was as if he questioned how he deserved her affections, and what he could do to preserve them. Why did he fear their love so much?

  She removed the pins from her hair, freeing her locks and allowing them to fall down her shoulders, the picture of perfection now complete.

  “Do you know how exotically beautiful you are? ” he asked. “I have never known a woman more captivating than you.”

  He fingered her long tresses, played with them. He draped her long ringlets across her breasts so they were partially covered. She heard him whisper that she reminded him of paintings of Eve in the garden of Eden. Her skin, a golden honey color, was smooth and silky to the touch. He said she smelled of lavender and she saw his arousal intensify by just being near her.

  She smiled at him, sliding her hand up his chest and unbuttoning the top button to his ruffled collar. She reached behind his head and pulled the gentleman’s bow from his hair. His dark brown mane fell loose and framed his handsome face.

  He allowed her to continue unbuttoning his shirt as he gazed into her eyes. She finished undressing him, and the heat between them made everything happen fast. He carried her to the other side of the room and laid her on the chaise longue, then lowered himself down upon her, kissing and positioning himself to possess her. Zoé surrendered to him, allowing his passion to co
nsume her as she blocked out the rest of their world.

  When he eased into her, her pelvis quaked and she arched her back, opening her mouth in a silent cry of ecstasy. He kissed her chin before slipping his tongue between her parted lips and twirling his tongue around hers. As he ran his hand down her smooth thigh, she locked her right leg over his hip and threw her left leg over the top of the chaise, giving him all the access he sought.

  He moved in and out of her with a precision that allowed him to go as deep as he could before pulling back. Looking down at her beauty as she sweated and twisted beneath him, he saw her breasts bounce perfectly. With a groan of total surrender, he buried his face between them as she grabbed the back of his head.

  He could make love to her like this for an eternity, and she would oblige.

  EF

  “This is not the way to the stables,” Marianne said, walking down the corridor. She cut her eyes at her escort, leery of his intentions and thinking that she’d made a grave error in trusting him.

  Sheridan smiled in a way that was apparently meant to be reassuring, but she shivered at the look he flashed her through his swollen black eyes. “You see that door right there, sweet Marianne?”

  She stopped with him and looked at the door, frowning. “Oui.”

  “They’re in there, waiting for you. I was to bring you. I’ll meet you all in the stables soon.”

  Marianne was relieved. “Merci,” she said. She let go of his arm and headed toward the door.

  Sheridan smiled as he watched her hand clasp the doorknob. Turning on his heel, he whistled and walked away, looking forward to the fireworks that would soon begin.

  EF “Je t’aime ma jolie,” Gianelli whispered in Zoé’s ear as he pushed his way deeper inside her. She shivered with delight at the warmth that enveloped them. Bracing himself with his hand on the arm of the chaise, he kept grinding his hips, pumping his love into her while kissing her. She pushed her leg up higher, eventually throwing it over the back of the sofa again in response to his passionate demands.

  “Oh, mon Dieu,” she moaned. Vaguely, on the edge of her consciousness, she heard the sound of a door opening, of tentative steps. And then she heard a small voice, an unmistakably familiar voice.

  “Bonjour? Qui est là?” Hello? Who’s there?

  The effect was immediate.

  Gianelli lifted his head in surprise and Zoé slunk into the

  pillows of the lounge, covering her face. So shocked was she, she forgot her leg was thrown over the chaise. That leg could belong only to her, betraying her attempt to remain unseen.

  There was Marianne, standing in the middle of the floor, her face as white as chalk, her eyes wide. Zoé looked up at La Roque to see the blood drain from his face. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was gratefully aware that the back of the sofa blocked her nudity, because in her heart she knew.

  “Mon Dieu!” Marianne whispered, confirming Zoé’s fear that it was one of her own family that had discovered them.

  Marianne covered her mouth in horror, stumbling backward.

  “Marianne!” Zoé yanked her leg back from over the sofa.

  “You whore! ” Marianne screamed, then turned and ran from the room.

  “No! Wait!” Zoé shouted. She jumped up, ran to retrieve her clothes, tripped over her shoes, and struggled into her slip and skirt.

  “Calm yourself. I will help you fix this,” La Roque said. He too was hurrying into his clothes.

  “I have to stop her before she gets to Papa!”

  She struggled to hook up her corset. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t do it. His pants done, he went to help her.

  “Zoé, please, we can fix this.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You don’t understand. I have killed my Papa,” she cried and raced out, her corset still partly undone.

  Forgetting his jacket, he grabbed his shirt and chased after her. Her fear and desperation matched his sense of guilt and regret.

  EF Blinded by rage and sorrow, Marianne ran down the hall at breakneck speed, holding the front of her skirt and trying to keep from falling. She would never forget the memory of walking into that room, of seeing those clothes on the floor. Hearing moans, she remembered looking to the sofa in the middle of the room to see La Roque’s backside rising and falling, along with a caramel-colored stocking leg thrown over the side of the chaise. She would never forget the pain of her sister’s betrayal.

  Marianne stumbled into the salon where her parents sat, talking. Seeing his daughter in tears, Bouchard jumped up to ask her what was wrong.

  “Qu’est-ce qui c’est passé?”

  “Papa! Papa!”

  Bouchard ran to her and grabbed her. “What is it? What’s

  happened? ”

  Madame dropped her Bible. “Are you hurt? ” Marianne wailed into her father’s shoulder and he held on

  to her, his face growing pale, his chest tightening. He exchanged glances with his wife, both wondering the same thing. What had Sheridan done to their child?

  Bouchard was trying to coax Marianne into her mother’s arms, so he could track Sheridan down, when Zoé ran in.

  Both parents were stunned. Zoé’s dress was half undone; her long locks were loose and hanging wildly around her shoulders. Their shock deepened when La Roque ran in seconds later, his shirt open and his hair free.

  Bouchard took one look at them and saw the truth. His face darkened with anger. Zoé looked into her father’s eyes and saw not only rage, but disappointment, humiliation and a profound sense of sorrow.

  “Oh, Papa,” she breathed.

  Bouchard pushed Marianne into her mother’s arms, advanced on Zoé, and delivered a blow across her face that sent her reeling against the doorway. La Roque grabbed Bouchard by the throat and slammed him against the wall.

  “Unhand me,” Bouchard sputtered, pounding La Roque’s arm.

  Marianne sat weeping in the corner, too lost in her own pain to realize the danger her father was in. Zoé realized it, however. She picked herself up and ran over to them. She, too, tried to free her father from La Roque’s furious grip.

  Bouchard was now gagging, not from La Roque’s hold, but from the piercing pain in his chest.

  “Gianelli, please!” Zoé shouted, tugging at La Roque’s powerful hands. “Please let him go. He’s sick! Don’t you see? You’re killing him!”

  Her words got through. La Roque released Bouchard, who slid down the wall. La Roque looked down at the wheezing, sick man as if seeing clearly how ill he was for the first time.

  “Calm yourself and I will,” he said, but his anger was so intense, he wanted to murder the man.

  Madame released Marianne and went to help her husband. “Please,” she cried. “Let him go! He has a weak heart!” Bouchard clawed at La Roque’s hands, swinging at his face and head. “Let me go!” he sputtered.

  “Do you promise not to strike her again? ” La Roque asked. The lack of answer from Bouchard only furthered his anger.

  Bouchard’s face turned a dark shade of pink from the strain.

  “I didn’t realize,” he muttered. “Oh dear God. What have I done? ”

  Zoé dropped to her knees at her father’s side and tried to help him stand. With a weak hand, he tried to push her away.

  “No, Papa, please! I can explain!” she cried.

  Madame shoved Zoé aside and took him in her arms. “Step away. You have done enough! You are killing him!”

  La Roque backed up further and looked at his trembling hands. He was shocked by the rage he’d displayed, fueled by his passion for his mademoiselle. It was the same intense rage his father had felt when Marcela rejected him. La Roque realized now how great a hold his love and desire for Zoé had over him, and the thought of it terrified him.

  “Papa, please,” Zoé wept, her hair falling in her face and her body racked with sobs.

  Bouchard looked up at her with bleary eyes, and then closed them. “The numbness,” he whispered. “My arm.”
>
  Madame snapped at Zoé. “Go upstairs and get his silver pill case from the vanity. Go! Now!”

  Zoé scrambled to her feet and ran out, desperate to help, to make everything right again, to find the medicine that would save her father.

  La Roque took her place at Bouchard’s side. Madame moved to protect her husband. “No—”

  “It’s all right,” said La Roque. “I won’t hurt him.”

  He slipped one arm under Bouchard and helped him to his feet, then half-carried the man to the sofa. There he eased him down. The older man tugged at his collar, fighting to breathe.

  La Roque ripped the collar open, but still Bouchard struggled; now clutching his chest. Madame had dropped down next to him on the sofa. She reached out to stroke his brow.

  “I’m afraid he doesn’t need love, Madame. He needs help,” La Roque said. “There’s whiskey over there, on the table. Pour him a glass.”

  Madame gave him a cold look. “Thank you for your kindness, mon seigneur, but it comes a little too late. Don’t you think you have done enough to damage our family? ”

  Stung, La Roque straightened up. He looked at Bouchard and realized that for once she was right. This was his handiwork, the result of his obsession with a woman, the same kind of obsession that had driven his father to madness. La Roque backed out of the room, horrified. Then he turned and fled, trying to escape what he believed to be the beginning of his own insanity.

  Marianne finally seemed to realize that her father was in a dire situation. She ran to his side. “Papa? ”

  “Maybe the whiskey will help,” Madame said. “It’s in that bottle, over there.”

  Marianne rushed to pour him a glass, nervously spilling some. Her shaking hands extended the glass to maman. She took the goblet and held it for her husband to drink. Trembling, Bouchard sat up enough to take a sip, but then fell weakly into the arms of his wife.

  Zoé ran in with the pills. Madame snatched the case from her hand, opened it and handed a pill to Bouchard.

  All three women watched him, praying that he would survive whatever had him in its grip. Zoé was crying so much that she didn’t even realize her tears had all run out. Marianne stared at her father, terrified as she watched his chest rise and fall.