Читать книгу The Caged Countess - Joanna Fulford, Joanna Fulford - Страница 8

Claudine stared after her in stunned disbelief. Then she turned to speak to her companion but the words died on her lips for he had already thrown aside his cloak and was shrugging himself out of his coat.

She regarded him coldly. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘Come on. We haven’t much time.’

‘If you imagine I’m going to …’

He paused, fixing her with a fierce glare. ‘You have a better plan?’

‘Well no, but …’

‘Then do it or, by heaven, I will! This tardiness is like to get us killed.’

She knew he was right but that didn’t make things any easier. She had never undressed in front of a man in her life. Reluctantly she unfastened her cloak and let it fall.

Seeing her comply, Duval continued undressing; coat and cravat joined his cloak and he sat down on the bed and began to tug off his boots. From below came the sound of raised voices. The police were in the hallway. Claudine fumbled with the fastenings of her gown. Her companion tossed his boots aside and dragged off his shirt. She had a swift impression of a hard-muscled torso and savage scars down the left arm and shoulder, and then looked hurriedly away resuming her struggle with the buttons.

Duval sighed. In two strides he was across the room. Strong hands turned her round and lifted her hair aside. In seconds the buttons were undone. Warm fingers brushed her skin as he slid the gown off her shoulders and, while she struggled out of the sleeves, unfastened the petticoat and stays beneath. It was accomplished with the smooth ease of one completely familiar with women’s clothing. Moments later she was standing in chemise and stockings and his fingers were unfastening the pins that held her hair. Glossy curls tumbled in disarray about her shoulders.

Booted feet sounded on the stairs and she could hear Madame Renaud’s angry protests. Then a man’s voice barked orders.

‘Search every room! The woman’s here somewhere.’

Claudine’s heart thumped painfully hard. It was her they meant. Alain must have talked. The poor man would have had no choice. She could only imagine what methods had been employed to break him. If they caught her she could expect the same. For a moment cold terror replaced rational thought. Her companion crossed to the bed and pulled back the coverlets.

‘Get in.’

Dumbly she obeyed, sliding across the chilly sheets to the far side. As she pulled the covers over herself Duval saw the soft gleam of metal on her hand and, for the first time, noticed her wedding band. He frowned.

‘Take off the ring.’

She struggled for a moment or two and then shook her head. ‘It’s too tight.’

‘Then keep your hand out of sight.’

Swiftly he drew the bed curtains closed and then came to join her. Outside, the booted feet came closer, punctuated at intervals by feminine screams and male oaths. Claudine shivered. He felt it.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he murmured. ‘Just play your part and say as little as possible.’

Inwardly he wondered how long her nerve would hold. Alain had said she was a skilled operative but, just then, Duval was far from convinced.

The darkness inside the curtained bed made it impossible for him to see her face, a circumstance for which Claudine was devoutly thankful. His words, though kindly meant, demonstrated clearly what he thought her to be. It was all of a piece with his casual assumption that she would have no objection to their physical intimacy. Then all reflection was driven from her mind by the hands gathering up the fabric of her shift. Instinctively she reached to stop him.

‘No.’

He gritted his teeth. ‘If this is to be credible you must take it off.’

Another door crashed open, nearer this time, to be followed by more angry voices.

Claudine took a deep breath. ‘All right, damn it.’

Hurriedly she struggled out of the chemise. He grabbed it and flung it aside. The immediacy of the cool linen sheet against her skin raised goose bumps along her arms and intensified the feeling of vulnerability. Never in her life had she been so glad of the darkness which hid her face. Then the mattress shifted under his weight and a lean hard body pressed the length of hers. Strong arms drew her closer, sharing his warmth. The musky scent of his skin sent a tremor through her that was nothing to do with their present peril. She could feel his breath against her neck and then the soft pressure of his lips. The skin seemed to burn where they touched.

‘Kiss me.’

Claudine tensed. ‘What!’

‘Kiss me.’ This time the tone was a quiet command.

‘But I …’

His mouth slanted over hers cutting off protest, gentle at first, then gradually becoming more insistent, ignoring resistance. Slowly, gently, his hands began their own exploration, their touch sending a wave of flaring warmth down the length of her. Gradually, of its own volition, her body relaxed a little and her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue teased hers. She knew it was wrong to be doing this and it should have been repellent; instead it shocked and excited.

As he felt her yield to the kiss Duval felt a familiar tightening sensation in his gut. Her body was exquisite, made for a man’s touch and his own responded to it with a swiftness that astonished him. He didn’t have to pretend. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. She filled his senses. The din from the next room faded to background noise. Suddenly, in the dark cocoon of the bed anything was possible. His lips travelled down her neck and throat to her breast, gently sucking and teasing until the nipple grew erect. He heard her gasp, felt her body quiver again. An answering heat flared in his groin. Then his mouth was over hers again, hot, ardent, seeking her response while his hands continued what they had begun.

The touch sent another flush of treacherous warmth the length of her body and triggered sensations she had never dreamed existed. An equally treacherous inner voice whispered thoughts of surrender, of submitting completely to his will, of pursuing this to its conclusion. And if she did she might become pregnant. It only needed one occasion. Horrified by her lustful response, she tried to protest but the sound was trapped in her throat. What emerged was a groan. Immediately the kiss grew deeper and more demanding. A hand caressed the length of her waist to her hip and moved thence to the secret place between her thighs, stroking gently. The touch sent liquid fire to her loins. Claudine gasped. The stroking continued. Her body quivered in response. She felt him unfasten his breeches and, moments later, his arousal hard against her leg … And then the door was flung open and booted feet tramped across the room. Ruthless hands dragged the curtains apart to reveal three uniformed officers. Duval turned and swore. That too had the merit of being genuine. Beside him, Claudine stifled a scream, dragging the sheet over her bosom, her eyes wide with shock.

Duval mentally prayed as his hand closed over her wrist in silent warning. If she lost her nerve now it was all over. Could she be relied on to play her part? Then Madame Renaud pushed past the intruders to address him.

‘I’m so sorry, monsieur. It’s all a misunderstanding.’

‘It had damned well better be,’ he replied. ‘What the devil’s going on?’

‘We’re looking for a woman,’ replied the officer in charge.

‘You’ve come to the right establishment then,’ said Duval, ‘only this one’s spoken for.’

The officer ignored him and looked at Claudine. ‘Who is this?’

With pounding heart she forced herself to return his stare, assuming what she hoped was a sufficiently brazen manner. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but Madame Renaud was before her and bristling with indignation.

‘This is Fifi. She’s one of my girls.’

‘How long has she been in your employ?’

‘About six months now.’

‘Indeed.’ The officer’s gaze appraised Claudine silently, his gaze stripping the sheet away. ‘Pretty girl.’

She wanted to slap the leering expression off his face. Instead she returned a provocative smile and fluttered her eyelashes.

‘There are many pretty girls here,’ replied Madame Renaud. ‘And they can cater for all tastes.’

Sickened to the depths of her soul by the speculative looks directed her way, Claudine forced herself to sustain the role. Duval glared at the intruders.

‘The only taste she has to cater for right now is mine.’ He looked meaningfully at Madame Renaud. ‘I paid you in good faith for the whole night with Fifi, and I mean to have my money’s worth.’

The men standing behind their officer raised their eyebrows and exchanged knowing grins. Madame nodded.

‘Of course you do, monsieur,’ she soothed. ‘I can only apologise for the interruption. I hope she pleases you.’

‘Fifi pleases me very much.’ The inflection was impossible to miss.

‘Monsieur Fouché says the same,’ replied Madame.

The officer’s head jerked round and his face paled a little. ‘Monsieur Fouché? He is a patron here?’

‘That’s right. He values discretion, you see, and I run a discreet establishment. I don’t suppose he’ll be too happy when he learns about all this uproar. Nevertheless, learn of it he will because I shall certainly lodge a complaint.’

The man seemed much taken aback. ‘I was merely doing my duty by acting on information received. However, it seems our information may have been wrong after all.’

Madame gave him a pitying look. ‘I think someone’s having a joke at your expense.’

That possibility was dawning on him too. Spots of angry colour appeared in his cheeks. ‘We will withdraw.’ He inclined his head towards the two in the bed. ‘I beg your pardon, monsieur, mademoiselle.’

Duval eyed him coldly. ‘Close the door when you leave.’ Then, apparently considering the matter at an end, he turned his back on them and laid a hand over Claudine’s breast. ‘Now, chérie, where were we?’

For a moment the officer seemed rooted to the spot, not knowing quite how to respond. His men grinned broadly. Then Madame stepped in and chivvied them out into the corridor. Seeing the door finally close behind them Claudine let out the breath she had been holding and collapsed on to the pillows, trembling with relief. Duval smiled.

‘Well done.’

‘It is Madame who deserves our thanks,’ she replied.

‘She was wonderful. The police will have to look elsewhere for their spy.’ He paused. ‘Your performance too was … most creditable.’

‘I can act a part when I have to.’

‘A part you play to perfection if I may say so.’

Indignation flared. ‘Yes, a part I play, and not at all what you think.’

Seeing the expression of amused scepticism that greeted these words, she squirmed inwardly. She was naked and in bed with a stranger in a brothel. Not what he thought? Dear heaven! He was only too justified in thinking it. Mortified now, she hurried on.

‘This was a necessary ruse. If there had been any other way I would have taken it.’

‘Of course.’ The tone was gently mocking like his smile.

Claudine gathered together the last shreds of her dignity. ‘I came here to meet Alain and to obtain the information he carried. The choice of venue was not mine. I would never have come here willingly any more than I would willingly have climbed into bed with you.’

She was unable to conceal the self-disgust she felt. However, Duval put a very different interpretation on her expression just then, and amusement ebbed. Despite his doubts she had indeed played her part well, but then the darkness hid all defects and she had been acting to save her life. The truth was that she found the thought of sexual congress with him to be abhorrent. The knowledge caused a sensation that was very like pain. He had thought himself past all this and it disturbed him to discover how far he was wrong. This woman had awoken something in him that he had believed dead. For a little while, in the forgiving darkness, he had thought she wanted him too. Now he felt angry with himself. His was no longer a face to attract the fair sex. That he had imagined such a woman might desire him was so pathetic it was laughable.

‘You need have no fear that I would force myself on you, chérie,’ he replied. ‘I prefer my women willing.’

The tone was perfectly even but she sensed the anger beneath. It served only to increase her shame. Mingled with it was an emotion that was disturbingly like regret.

Duval turned away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. When he had fastened his breeches he glanced over his shoulder.

‘Get dressed. We’re leaving as soon as the coast is clear.’

Claudine located her chemise and drew it on hurriedly. ‘I told you, I can take care of myself.’

She slid out of bed and reached for the pile of discarded clothing, supremely aware of the virile figure just feet away.

‘I gave my word to Alain and I mean to keep it,’ he replied.

‘You have already kept your word.’ She found her stays. ‘I am grateful, truly. But this is where we part company.’

‘We part company when I have delivered you safe on English soil. Now turn around.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can lace you up, why else?’ he growled. ‘Must you argue about everything?’

Claudine glared at him but, realising it would be impossible to manage alone, obeyed. ‘I do not argue about everything.’

His hands moved deftly to the task. ‘No?’

‘No. I was just telling you …’ She broke off with a startled gasp as the lacing was drawn tight.

‘I know full well what you were telling me and you can save your breath.’

‘I won’t have any breath at this rate.’

The laces slackened a little. ‘Better?’ Seeing her nod he fastened the stays and then stepped away to resume dressing. ‘I don’t intend to lose another English operative to Fouché’s men.’

She donned her petticoat and reached for her gown. ‘Why burden yourself with me since I cannot please you in any way?’

‘You pleasing me or not is irrelevant.’

She sighed. ‘Look, I know you mean well …’

‘I mean to get you back to England.’

‘You can’t; not without my co-operation.’

‘Your co-operation would be useful, but it isn’t essential.’

Claudine stared at him. ‘I’m not sure I care for the implications of that.’

‘You’re right; you wouldn’t care for them at all.’

The words were casually spoken but something in his expression gave her pause. She had no idea what he was capable of and somehow didn’t care to test the matter. He saw her uncertainty and nodded.

‘You’ll come with me, Claudine.’

Unsettled by that steady gaze she looked away and glanced round for her hairpins. They were strewn across the floor, scattered in the haste of undressing. She knelt and began to retrieve the nearest ones. Although fully dressed now he made no attempt to help. Claudine, quietly fuming, continued the search, only too aware of the booted feet in her line of vision and the powerful figure above whose gaze seemed to burn into her back. The symbolism of their current positions didn’t escape her. She was equally sure it hadn’t escaped him either. Gritting her teeth she concentrated on her task. Eventually, when she had located enough pins, she got to her feet and moved away to the small mirror above the washstand.

For a moment or two she was startled by the face reflected there; by the rosy flush along her skin and the new sparkle in her eyes. Her lips were redder too and slightly swollen now. She could still feel Duval’s mouth on hers, the touch of his hands on her naked flesh. Those five minutes in his arms had left her with an aching need, with feelings she could not afford and dared not pursue.

Confused now, and annoyed with herself as well, she turned her attention to the task in hand. However, without a brush or a comb the options were limited. Moreover, she could still feel the weight of Duval’s gaze, intimate and unsettling. Hurriedly she drew her hair back and twisting it into a knot on the crown of her head, secured it there. The mirror revealed errant wisps curling around her neck and face. It was far from perfect but it would have to do.

Duval held out her cloak. He settled it over her shoulders and fastened it with unhurried deliberation. The gesture was both practical and quietly assertive. It was also unnerving, like his closeness now and the warmth of his fingers brushing against her skin.

He surveyed his handiwork and stepped back, meeting her gaze. ‘Come.’