AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In repose the stern look had left him. He was more like the man she had come to know at Highbeck, the man who loved his home and his children, the man who had a keen sense of humour and was the epitome of genteel behaviour, the man respected, even loved, by his tenants and servants, the man she had come to love. How could she even think of betraying him? But what of Michel? What of her father waiting patiently at Highbeck for her to return with her brother? There had to be a way, there had to be, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.
He stirred and opened his eyes. ‘Lisette.’ His voice was husky and full of sleep. ‘What are you doing down there?’
‘I, as a good wife, have been tending your wounds.’
‘Wounds? I am not wounded.’
She indicated the pink water in the bowl. ‘Your feet were a mess.’
‘You did not need to do that. I could have done it myself.’
‘It was my privilege. You must have found walking very painful.’
‘Sailors, unlike soldiers, do not learn to march long distances and I have grown soft.’ He leant forwards to take her hand. ‘Thank you, my dear. They feel better already.’
The feel of his hand covering hers, his gratitude, his blue eyes looking into hers with such trust and tenderness was too much to bear after the turbulent day she had had. Her eyes filled with tears.
‘Crying, Lisette?’ He reached out and touched her cheek, catching a tear as it fell from her bottom lid. ‘What is the matter? Has something happened today?’
He was altogether too perspicacious. ‘No, nothing,’ she said quickly, blinking hard. ‘I’m tired and you must be too.’
‘I shall be right as ninepence in the morning.’
She pulled herself together. ‘Have you had anything to eat? Shall I fetch something for you?’
‘I ate with Lord Portman at the Cross Keys. All I want now is to find my bed.’
‘Then, if you will excuse me, I shall go to my room.’ She attempted to get to her feet, but sitting on the floor with her legs under her had made them go numb. She stumbled and fell into his lap.
He caught her and held her. ‘Oh, Lisette,’ he said. ‘You do try a man, don’t you?’ And then he kissed her.
His lips were warm on hers, not demanding, not hot with passion, not tentative either—nothing Jay did was tentative—but it was enough to set her body trembling as the warmth spread right through her. No one had ever kissed her like that before, no one had stirred all her senses in the same chaotic way. She put her arms about his neck and allowed it to go on, then found herself responding, clinging to him, wanting more. She was, for that brief moment in time, deliriously happy, and when he would have drawn away, she pulled his face down to hers again.
He came to his senses before she did. ‘Go to bed, temptress, before I forget myself entirely,’ he said, gently pushing her from him.
She scrambled to her feet. ‘I…’ She stopped, lost for words.
He looked up at her. Her hair had come loose, her clothing was in disarray and her eyes were dark with passion. With an effort of will, he resisted the temptation to pull her back on to his knee. ‘Go to bed, Lisette.’ His voice was flat.
She fled, leaving him to dispose of the bowl of pink water and his ruined stockings. He took them to the kitchen, musing on the almost-forgotten sensation of kissing a beautiful woman. She had been so pliable, so receptive, naïve and yet knowledgeable in that instinctive way all women seemed to have when it came to men. In the heat of the moment he had forgotten his avowed intention to keep his distance. She was a danger to his peace of mind, always had been, ever since he had first met her, and, he suspected, always would be. Whatever he was doing, she filled his thoughts when they were apart and all his senses when they were together; she made him feel both protective and exasperated. And, yes, he loved her. How that had come about he did not know, nor did he know what to do about it.
Madame Gilbert was dozing by the fire in the kitchen, but roused herself to get up and take the bowl from him. ‘Your wife had a visitor this afternoon,’ she told him.
‘I do not deny my wife visitors, madame.’
‘This was a gentleman, an Englishman, dressed very fine. Madame did not refuse to see him.’
‘Why should she?’ he said evenly. ‘He is her uncle. Goodnight, Madame Gilbert.’
He climbed the stairs to bed, deep in thought. The concierge’s revelation, coming on top of Sam’s earlier news—that he had seen a gentleman emerge from La Force who was undoubtedly an Englishman and one he had seen somewhere before, though he could not remember where or when—ruined the euphoria of those last few minutes with Lisette. Passing her room, he was tempted to go in and demand to know what was going on, but refrained. Tackling her when he felt hurt and betrayed would not help.
