Читать книгу Rebellious Rakes: Rake Most Likely to Rebel - Bronwyn Scott - Страница 14

Chapter Seven

In for a sou, in for a livre. Alyssandra drew a deep, steadying breath and slipped her arm through his with a confidence comprised mostly of bravado. She couldn’t cry off now for at least two reasons. First, she’d promised her brother she’d keep Haviland close even if the two of them disagreed on the method. Second, Haviland had come back for more. Coming back had been the plan since the moment she’d put on the blue dress. She’d not flirted with him for the simple prize of a single night and a few stolen kisses. She’d played for bigger stakes and she’d got them in spades. The only surprise was how early he’d called. He’d wasted no time coming back for more.

That in itself was impressive. It was something of a feat for him to have made it this far. ‘How did you find our home?’ she asked as they made the short walk to the park. ‘It’s hardly common knowledge.’ For an outsider, was the implied message. There were plenty of people who knew where they lived. The hôtel had been in the Leodegrance family since the sixteen hundreds. But everyone who knew them knew Antoine did not receive visitors. It was difficult to imagine which of their acquaintances would have given up that information to an Englishman. His only connection to them would be through the salle d’armes and while his skill was respected, he was still an outsider. Surely, no one there would have told him.

‘By trial and error mostly. Shopkeepers.’ His eyes rested on her. ‘I did not think it would prove to be such a secret.’

‘My brother likes his privacy,’ she answered shortly, making sure he heard the warning in that and the caution not to come again. Visitors were not welcome.

‘And you? Do you like your privacy as well?’ Haviland was probing now and not so subtly.

‘When I want company, I go out.’ Her retort was pointed, in the hopes of dissuading him from pursuing this line of question. It would be a good time to let the subject drop. They’d arrived at the wide gates of the Luxembourg Gardens, and there was a small crowd of people to navigate: nannies with children, children with kites and boats for sailing in the fountains. She was conscious of Haviland’s hand moving to the small of her back to negotiate the knots of people at the entrance.

Even the smallest, most mundane touch from him sent a jolt through her. Some men just knew how to touch a woman. Haviland North was one of them. Etienne’s touch had been comfortable, but nothing like this. If a simple touch from him could ignite such a reaction, it made one wonder what other more intimate touches could do.

‘Like last night?’ he said once they’d found their way clear of the people at the entrance. Touches like last night? Those had certainly been more intimate. It took her a moment to remember where they’d left the conversation. Then she realised with no small amount of disappointment he was not talking about touches, but about company.

‘Did you come looking for me or for any company in general?’ His tone was edged with ice. He’d misunderstood her answer. He was thinking she was a loose woman, looking for intimate male company whenever and wherever it pleased her. She wanted him to be warm and charming as he had been last evening, as he had been before he knew who she was and everything had turned into a fencing match of the verbal variety. Her identity had made him wary as she’d known it would.

‘You approached me, as I recall. You crossed the room.’ It would be entertaining to banter with him if so much wasn’t at stake. He was clever and bold, not afraid to say the audacious. It made conversation an adventure, wondering what would come next, what her response would be. ‘I hardly think it’s fair to blame me.’

He shrugged, contemplating, his eyes on her mouth. ‘If I had known who you were from the start, it might have changed the, ah, “direction” of the evening. There’s no denying being who you are complicates things. I kissed the sister of my fencing instructor. Surely, you can understand the precarious position that puts me in.’

Kissed was a relative understatement and they both knew it. They’d acted precipitously. She’d been a stranger to him. They’d owed each other nothing but passion in those moments. Then she’d become someone and everything changed.

‘And I kissed my brother’s star pupil. Certainly, you can understand the position that puts me in.’

He gave a wry smile. ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. What position is that, exactly?’

She met his smile with a coy one of her own. They were expert wits toying with one another the way expert fencers tested the skills of their opponents. How much to reveal? How much to conceal? ‘The position of deciding whether or not I can trust you. There’s so much to consider if we were to become, shall we say, entangled.’ It was hard to play cool with his body so close to hers, his eyes lingering every so often on her mouth, just enough to remind her of what their mouths could do. She had to resist. She could flirt all she liked, but ultimately, resistance was in her best interest. She needed to keep him close, but not too close. Too much intimacy and he would start asking more questions.

‘What is there to consider?’ he drawled, playing his end of the game with audacious charm. He was overtly in pursuit, driving her towards a particular conclusion to this conversation by stripping away her objections.

But she knew the game. Alyssandra ticked off the considerations on her fingers. ‘First, I must consider your motives. Are you using me to gain an entrée with my brother? If so, it won’t work. I don’t appreciate being made an intermediary pawn and my brother doesn’t receive anyone. Second, I must ask myself what kind of liaison are you looking for? Based on what I’ve seen of your like-minded countrymen, I can only assume you’re looking for a short-term sexual companion, an exotic adventure to write home about. That, too, is an unappealing motivation. I have no desire to become an Englishman’s souvenir, a story that is trotted out in his clubs back home when he’s sloshed with brandy and reminiscing.’

Her words were sharp as she laid down her terms. She’d meant them to be. She wanted him to understand she would not be used no matter how strong their attraction. But Haviland merely laughed and gave her a wide smile. ‘I agree entirely. Neither option sounds even remotely appealing. Those are not things I would ever want for myself.’ That wide smile almost disarmed her.

Almost. Agreement was a most effective strategy and while she hadn’t expected it, she was ready for it. ‘I suppose you want me to ask what do you want?’ She tried for a bored tone, or at least one that suggested she’d travelled this path before when, in reality, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his blue eyes and her pulse speeded up in anticipation of his answer. What could a man with a perfect life possible want that he didn’t already have?

His voice dropped, low and private, and the size of her world shrank with it until nothing existed but him, her and the tree at her back. ‘What if I said I was looking for something else—an escape? What if I could offer that same escape to you? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be interested. I can see the tension in you. Your life is not a free one. I can see it.’ Those blue eyes dropped to her mouth again. ‘Why not escape, even if it’s just for a little while, to find pleasure with a man who knows how to provide it?’

He was bold. ‘Are you propositioning me?’ She could be bold, too. The game was heating up. Too bad she could do nothing more than let the pot boil.

Haviland shook his head. ‘No, nothing as base as that. I’m merely asking you to consider the possibilities, that’s all.’ He smiled and leaned towards her ear, his voice a whisper. ‘I have already considered the possibilities and found them positively delectable.’

She was going to swoon right there and she might have if she hadn’t been so sure that was what he was after. It took all of her sangfroid to muster the words, ‘Has a woman ever said no to you, Haviland North?’

He grinned. ‘No, not that I recall.’

She leaned into him, letting her mouth hover as near to him as she dared without touching. ‘Then this is your lucky day. I’m about to be your first.’

He chuckled, low and throaty, a sexy invitation to repeal her decision. He didn’t take rejection like any man she’d ever known. ‘Then I shall delight in helping you change your mind.’

‘You flirt like you fence, all balestra and lunge.’

‘It’s an aggressive combination.’ His response was sexy and sharp in its immediacy. His eyes hooded so she couldn’t see them, his forehead pressed to hers. ‘So you did know me before last night. So you have seen me fence.’ His tone was flintily accusatory.

She bit her lip. ‘I did say your reputation preceded you. It stands to reason that you’re a phenomenal fencer if my brother is willing to take you on.’

‘So you did.’

She swallowed. He was going to kiss her. And he might have if Madame Aguillard hadn’t swept down upon them with her little coterie of friends.

‘There you are, monsieur le vicomte! And how nice to see you, too, mademoiselle.’ She nodded at Alyssandra. ‘You’re out twice in as many days,’ she added cattily, her eyes drifting between the two of them, but it was clear who the centre of her attention was. ‘My friends have been dying to meet you, Amersham.’ She gushed in rapid French to Haviland.

‘Je suis enchanté.’ Haviland smiled, overlooking the familiarity, but it was a polite smile only, nothing at all like the wicked smiles he’d been giving her. Alyssandra took a petty satisfaction in knowing he preferred sparring with her over Madame Aguillard’s company.

‘I am giving a little dinner party tonight,’ she said after introductions had been made. ‘Perhaps you and your friends would like to come?’ She stepped close to Haviland, affording him a view of her bosom if he so chose to look. Alyssandra noted Haviland did not. It was another small victory and one Madame Aguillard was well aware of. But she was not a woman who admitted defeat easily. She put a confiding hand on his arm. ‘There will be cards for Monsieur Gray and ladies for Monsieur Carr. I have some especial friends who would like to meet him particularly and I’m sure you and I can find something special for you, too.’

Alyssandra wanted to skewer the woman for her audacity. She watched Haviland step back, freeing his arm from the woman’s touch. ‘I appreciate the invitation, but I must respectfully decline.’ He offered no reason. The conversation mopped up after that with polite small talk and Madame Aguillard wandered off to join other groups.

‘She’ll be back,’ Alyssandra said as the woman took her friends and left.

Haviland gave her a small, private smile. ‘Well, what I’m interested in is right here.’

But for how long? They started walking, a slow, steady stroll, taking in the lush greenery of spring, the pleasant, warm air of the day. She was thankful for the silence as they strolled. Her mind was whirling and she needed a minute to think. How did she fulfil her promise to watch Haviland? How did she keep him from asking too many questions? How did she keep herself from rushing headlong into this forbidden attraction while not losing Haviland in the process? Or worse, losing herself? It would be too easy to capitulate to his charm, to set herself up for heartbreak when he left. How to balance all this?

The audacious Madame Aguillard might be routed for now, but the lesson was learned. Haviland was a person of interest to the women of Paris and a healthy male in his prime. Madame Aguillard might not be to his taste, but he wasn’t a man used to being alone. It had crossed her mind as she’d watched Madame Aguillard jockey for position that if she didn’t claim him, someone would.

Maybe the real question to ask was how much was she herself willing to risk? Could she have it all? Could she reach for the pleasure Haviland promised, the escape he offered to explore with her, and still preserve her secrets? It was already the end of April.

‘How long will you be in Paris?’ She cocked her head to look up at him, letting her eyes give away a little of her contemplation.

His eyes danced in response. ‘Long enough for you to take me up on my offer. Changed your mind already, have you?’ He paused. ‘All teasing aside, we plan to stay until June, unless Nolan offends any gamblers or Brennan angers any husbands. Then, it will be sooner.’

‘Your friends sound delightful.’ She had six weeks at most. Surely she could keep her secret and have her pleasure, too, if she dared.

He nodded. ‘They are. The very best of friends a man could hope for, actually. Perhaps you’ll get to meet them.’

‘Then where will you go?’ She shouldn’t feel so empty at the prospect of him leaving. Her strategy depended on him leaving. She couldn’t keep up this ruse for ever. He would go on to other places, other women, and she would still be here, her world much smaller than his and likely to remain so. Don’t think on it. He is here now, yours now if you encourage him. He’s already made his offer, he is just waiting for you to accept.

‘My friends fancy a summer in the Alps, climbing the peaks.’ He shrugged, and she thought she sensed some reluctance there.

‘The Alps don’t appeal to you?’ They reached a fork in the walkway, and she gestured that they take the path to the right.

‘The Alps do, just not as much as Paris,’ he admitted. ‘They are not known for their fencing salles. But it is on the way to Italy and Italy appeals a great deal.’

‘Is it the salles alone that give Paris its appeal?’ She might be guilty of fishing for a compliment here, but flirting was a way to keep the conversation light.

Haviland smiled. ‘The salles d’armes are big part of it, but I love the coffee houses, the intellectual discussions. When I’m not at Leodegrance’s, Archer and I sit for hours in the Latin Quarter, listening to the debates, joining in sometimes.’

‘Surely you have that in London?’ She shot him a sideways glance.

‘I suppose we do. Soho is awash with artists and foreigners bringing their own flavour to the city, but it’s not a place I am able to frequent often.’ Wistfulness passed over his features and was quickly gone, but not missed. ‘Perhaps it’s not the city I love so much as the freedom I have in it. No one has expectations of me here.’

She gave a soft laugh of understanding. ‘Le Vicomte Amersham has to keep up appearances?’ There were places she no longer frequented, too, because life required otherwise. She thought about his comment regarding escape. Paris was about freedom for him. She’d been surprised a man of his background didn’t already consider himself free, that he found it necessary to leave his home to taste freedom. She’d always thought money and power were the keys to freedom, and he seemed to have plenty of them. She and her brother had struggled to keep what little they had of either.

‘Where does fencing fit with all of that?’ She risked probing a little further.

‘Fencing is a gentleman’s art. A man should how to defend himself adequately.’ It was a rote answer, the kind fencing instructors gave to build their student base.

‘You’ve attained enough skill to have stopped ages ago.’ She wouldn’t let him get off with an easy answer.

He stopped walking and faced her, eyes serious. ‘If you want to know, it’s about freedom, the chance to prove myself on my terms and no one else’s. Skill cannot be inherited, it has to be worked for, it has to be honed to perfection and that is something only a man can do for himself.’

‘I know.’ Her answer was a whisper. She did know. Better than he thought because that was how she felt every time she picked up a foil, every time she faced an opponent on the piste. How would she be able to keep her emotional detachment when he looked at her like that? Spoke to her in words that echoed in her heart? She swallowed in the silence. ‘Come, the fountain I want you to see is just up here.’ The layers were coming off. But his layers weren’t the only ones being peeled back. She’d not bargained on the fact that exposing him would also mean exposing herself.

* * *

It was quiet beneath the shade of the leafy canopy overhead, the sound of trickling water growing louder as they approached the end of the path. ‘This is the Medici Fountain, one of the prizes of our park.’ Her voice was quiet out of reverence for the solitude.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Haviland spared a glance at the stonework, but his gaze rested on her and she had no doubt his words hadn’t been for the fountain alone. ‘Is this what you wanted to show me?’ His eyes dropped to her mouth, silently encouraging.

‘And I wanted to show you this.’ She stretched up on her toes, arms wrapping around his neck as she brought her mouth to his. This time there would be no mistake about who was kissing whom and who had started it.