Seduction (8 page)

“I do understand,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. “And I am so sorry for those you have lost. I am so sorry you have suffered so much pain.”

She did not understand at all, he thought. “I will fight to the death for my cause—the cause of freedom.” For him, freedom meant being able to live in the Loire Valley without fear of reprisal—without fear of having his home taken from him. Just then, his family and friends were fighting for that very freedom in le Loire, yet they were running out of arms and food.

“You are frightening me.”

He looked at her. The urge to take her in his arms was stunning. “That is not my intention.”

She had saved his life and he owed her a great debt that did not include this deception. It did not include seduction. But he could not deny the urgent attraction he felt. “You are afraid for me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Death is a part of war, Julianne. Even you know that.”

“How can you be so casual about it?” she cried.

He almost told her that he did not feel casually about the subject at all. But he would never tell her any such thing. “Everyone dies sooner or later, whether in war or from sickness or from old age.”

She stared, stricken. “I must ask you something, Charles, and it is difficult for me.”

Although wary, he looked calmly at her.

“How long has it been since you lost Nadine?”

He instantly understood. “It has been a year and a half, Julianne.” He saw the flicker of relief in her eyes, and that twinge of guilt came again. Was she truly in love with her revolutionary war hero? “There has been so much death, in these past few years. One learns how to accept it rather quickly.”

She stood up and walked over to him and lay her shaking hand on his shoulder. “Do you still love her?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned partially away. “I shouldn’t have asked. That was selfish of me.”

He stood, pulling her into his arms, and her soft, voluptuous body inflamed him. It was becoming hard to think clearly. “You had every right to ask.”

She was trembling. He could feel the same insane urgency in her. He turned up her face. “I have become very fond of you, Julianne.”

“So have I,” she gasped. “I am so glad…Jack brought you here. I am so glad…that we are friends.”

He looked at her parted lips, very carefully. It was becoming hard to think coherently. “But we are more than friends, no?” he asked softly.

“We are more than friends,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Soon, I will return to France.” Finally, he was speaking the truth.

The tears brimmed. “And I will miss you.”

And as they stared at one another, he heard a door downstairs slam.

He could not believe her sister’s timing. It would not serve him or his deception to have Amelia walk in on them now. But there was no turning back now. Surely, one kiss would not hurt either one of them.

Dominic bent over her, touching his mouth to hers. And very carefully, he feathered her lips with his. As he did, he was blinded by a flood of hot desire.

She gasped, seizing his shoulders, opening for him.

The desire brought a shocking anguish. And as he claimed her mouth, hard, the memories of blood and death, of rage and hatred, of distress and despair engulfed him. A part of him was in France, in agony, another part of him was with her, in ecstasy. He could not pull away. He could not check himself now. Nor did he want to.

He deepened the kiss, demanding everything from her, and she mated fiercely with his tongue.

And he thought, she should know better than to trust a stranger.

A
MELIA
AND
J
ULIANNE
had gone into the town of St. Just together for some groceries. Dominic stood at the top of the stairs, unbeknownst to them, and watched the sisters exit the house.

Julianne had been concerned about leaving him alone for an hour or two but he had reassured her.

She had accepted his promise that he would rest. He had appeared stoic, but inwardly, he had been thrilled.

Spying was inherent in his nature now. Everything he had learned about Greystone, the family and the area and its denizens, he had learned from Julianne. He was eager to go through the house, prying into the family’s lives and affairs. He didn’t expect to find very much, but one never knew. Jack Greystone held the most promise. He might claim not to care about the war, and be a simple smuggler, but he could be actively involved.

He entered a woman’s bedroom. He saw the two beds, the two small bed stands, each with its own candle, the clothes hanging from the wall pegs, and knew the sisters shared the chamber. Julianne wore white muslin, exclusively, while Amelia favored gray frocks as if to make herself drabber than she actually was.

Within ten minutes, Dominic had made a thorough search of the room. He found some old journals, a few toiletries, spare candles and a sheath of letters, hidden in the armoire, under a pile of shirtwaists.

He paused, taken aback. The stack was tied with a blue ribbon, and his immediate assumption was that the letters belonged to Julianne.

He glanced at the top one—and realized he was looking at love letters written to Amelia. Oddly relieved, he put the letters back where he had found them.

The next room belonged to Jack. He was certain of it. It smelled like ships and the sea.

He began a rapid, thorough search. He found nothing of interest until he looked under the mattress, where he found a dozen navigational charts. The charts had been meticulously sketched. He was getting the inkling that Jack Greystone had made them himself. He sat on the bed, looking closely at the first chart, which detailed a cove at Land’s End, right down to hidden reefs and rocks. He went through them quickly then. The man had charted the entire Cornish peninsula, from Cape Cornwall, just above St. Just, to Penzance.

And there were maps of the coves and beaches near Brest, too.

He looked back at one of the Cornish charts. Here and there Jack had marked the coast with X’s. Dominic wondered what the marks stood for.

Jack had starred an area above St. Just, writing the word,
navy,
above the star.

“What a good man,” Dom murmured.

And he heard a horse whinny outside.

He leapt up, ran to the window, and saw Amelia and Julianne alighting from the carriage, both women carrying large baskets. He turned, unperturbed, and carefully began rolling up every chart. It would take the women a few minutes to unload, he thought, and he intended to put every chart back in the same order as they had been when he had discovered them.

As he adjusted the sequence of the charts, all now rolled and tied, he heard the front door slam. He now lifted the mattress and replaced the charts, then carefully adjusted the bedcovers. He was fairly certain that a successful smuggler would be astute enough to realize if anything in his private chamber had been touched.

The front door slammed again.

Satisfied that the bedchamber was exactly as he had found it, he went to the window and looked out. He became mildly alarmed when he saw Julianne alone at the carriage, retrieving more parcels. Where was her sister?

Julianne was very susceptible to his deceptions but he had no delusions about Amelia. She was blind to his appeal. She had a great deal of common sense. Although they were actually allies, in a way, just then they were enemies—he had an alias to maintain. He did not want to have to deceive the older sister, who had made it clear that she did not care for Charles Maurice at all.

Dominic was crossing the hall when Amelia appeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

His heart leapt but then quieted. He smiled at her. “I thought I heard a horse.”

“Were you in Jack’s chamber?” she asked.

“I went to the window so I could look out on the drive. Can I help with the packages?” he asked pleasantly.

Amelia stared at him. It was certainly unacceptable for a guest to walk, uninvited, into someone else’s private chamber. Amelia walked past him and opened up the door to Jack’s bedroom, as if she expected something to have been disturbed.

“I apologize,” he said amiably. “The door was ajar and I know your brother is not at home.”

Amelia shut the door, rather forcefully. “Yes. You have been spending a lot of time with my sister, and she speaks freely, does she not?”

“She is an unusual woman. I am grateful to have had her company while I convalesce.”

Amelia gave him a sharp look. “I am not a fool, sir. You may have worked your wiles on my sister, but I do not approve of who and what you are.”

Before he could reply, Julianne gasped, “Amelia!”

They both turned to find her on the landing. She hurried toward them.

“He was in Jack’s bedchamber,” Amelia said.

Julianne looked at him in surprise.

“I heard the horse,” he said calmly. “I went to the window to see who was calling.” He gave her a significant look.

And she understood, immediately, the implication he intended. Julianne faced her sister. “Amelia, no one can know who he is or that he is here. I knew we shouldn’t have left him alone! Of course he would go to see who was calling. Our friends are
not
his friends.”

Amelia looked back and forth between Dominic and Julianne. “I hope you are right.”

“You don’t trust him because he reminds you of St. Just,” Julianne said.

What was this? Dominic wondered.

Amelia started. “That is very rude, Julianne. Your Frenchman has nothing in common with St. Just—they don’t even look alike.”

“They both have that same air, that same tone,” Julianne said. She turned to Dominic. “It is all right,
monsieur,
There is no harm done.”

Amelia took her arm. “I’d like to talk to you downstairs.” She faced Dominic. “You need not come down to help with the groceries. You are ill, after all.”

He smiled at her. “I should like to help.”

“Absolutely not.” Amelia turned and marched down the hall and downstairs.

“I am sorry,” Julianne said.

“She is concerned about you. I hardly blame her.” He approached, recalling their very heated kiss of that morning. “You shouldn’t discuss me with her.”

“You’re right. But she is a mother hen. She is always asking about the time we spend together.”

“Divert her,” he suggested. He reached out to stroke her jaw with his thumb, the gesture unintentional. Realizing he had simply wanted to touch her, he dropped his hand.

She hesitated, then cupped his cheek, her gaze heating.

His entire body stiffened. “We don’t have much time, Julianne.”

“I know.”

He kissed her hand. “Come to me tonight.” He could hardly believe himself. But he knew that if she came, he would not send her away.

Her eyes widened.

A heavy silence fell. From downstairs, Amelia called, “Julianne!”

“You had better go.”

She bit her lip, turned and rushed to the stairs. He waited for ten seconds, and then followed. As he did, he closed his chamber door loudly, so they would think he had gone inside.

He did not want to make a sound as he went downstairs. But Amelia’s voice was raised and he realized they were just below the stairs. He did not have to go down them, after all. He knelt, straining to hear.

“In the past few days, I have become suspicious of him,” Amelia cried. “In fact, the more you speak of him, as highly as you do, the more suspicious I become.”

“Why? He is a kind, sincere man who has suffered greatly. And he is a hero!”

“My God, listen to yourself. He has charmed you senseless,” Amelia accused.

“I have hardly lost my wits.”

“You are at his bedside constantly.”

“He is recovering—where else should I be?”

“Has he seduced you?”

“What?” Julianne gasped.

“Well, I take it he has not, and thank God for that,” Amelia said harshly. “I do not trust him, and you shouldn’t, either.”

It was a moment before Julianne spoke. “Amelia, I won’t dissemble, I like him very much. But you are jumping to false conclusions!”

Another pause ensued. “Can you deny that you are infatuated?”

Julianne gasped.

“I didn’t think so. I am sorry, Julianne, I disapprove. The sooner he is gone from Greystone, the better. Hopefully Jack will return at any moment and we can send Monsieur Maurice on his way! I wonder what Jack would think if he learned that our guest was in his bedchamber.”

“He had cause to be there. Our neighbors are his enemies,” Julianne said softly.

“I just want him gone,” Amelia said, sounding distressed.

“He is going back to France, soon,” Julianne reassured her.

He had heard enough. Dominic went back to his room.

J
ULIANNE
LAY
MOTIONLESS
in her white cotton nightgown. She was almost afraid to breathe. Yet she was trembling wildly. Tension riddled her entire body. Very slowly, as if moving her head might awaken Amelia, she turned so she could look at her sister. Amelia slept just an arm’s length from her, in the other bed.