“No!” Juliette tried to steady her voice. “You’re making mock of me.”
“No.” He lifted the wine to his own lips. “But I admit to curiosity. I delight in complexity and I find you the most intriguing of puzzles, Juliette.”
“I’m not particularly complex. I’m not even clever with books, like Catherine.” Juliette pushed back her chair and stood up. “You’re the puzzle.”
A smile so wickedly sensual it took her breath lit his lean face. “Then perhaps we should attempt to merge our complexities to form a felicitous whole.”
She stared at him in fascination, a sudden tightness constricting her chest. She was acutely aware of the lithe power of his physique beneath his air of elegant indolence, the grace of his long, tanned fingers toying with the fragile stem of the crystal goblet. “How?”
“In the usual manner. I’m not one who demands a bizarre repertoire of—” He stopped as he noticed her expression. “What did you expect?” he asked softly. “If you didn’t want to solve the puzzle, you should have gone on to Vasaro. You knew what awaited you here with me.” He paused. “Didn’t you?”
She had known, she realized. She had not wanted to acknowledge it, but he was right, she had known. “You want to … fornicate with me.”
“Blunt, but precise.” He leaned back in his chair. “To be even more precise, I wish to fornicate with you for a long, long time and in ways which you may not even be aware exist.”
Her heart was pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe. “I doubt it. I’m not like Catherine. At court I heard and saw many …” She trailed off and swallowed hard. “Why? I’m not at all pretty.”
“You think not? Then why do I find you desirable?” His voice thickened. “Why do I grow hard when I look at you?”
Her eyes widened, instinctively shifting to his lower body hidden by the damask tablecloth. “Do you?”
He smiled and pushed his chair back. “Come and see.”
Her gaze quickly fell to the plate in front of her. “I think not. I have no wish to fornicate with any man.”
His smile widened as he rose to his feet. “No? Let’s see, shall we?” He was beside her chair in three strides, pulling her to her feet. He sat down in the chair from which he had just evicted her and pulled her down onto his lap. “If you won’t look at me, feel me.”
She stiffened with shock. Even through the multitude of layers of clothing separating them she could feel the bold arousal pressing against her womanhood. And where he touched her she tingled, burned, ached. She should be fighting him, she thought hazily. But Jean Marc wasn’t the Duc de Gramont; he wouldn’t take what she didn’t want to give. “This is foolish.”
“Infinitely.” He unfastened the top of her gown and bared her throat. “And we’ve only just started. I wonder what you’d say to the other foolish positions I’ve been imagining you in of late.” His head lowered and his tongue licked delicately at the pulse rioting in the hollow of her throat.
She inhaled sharply and he looked up and nodded slowly. “You like that? Let me free your breasts and I’ll do other things you’ll like.”
She could feel the tension of his every muscle, see the pulse that was pounding in his temple as he wrapped his arms around her. “Why are you doing this?”
He looked down at her. “Because you refused to understand,” he said quietly. “This is what we are together. This is what we’ve been since you cared for me at the inn over five years ago.” His hands cupped her hips and he pressed her down on himself. “I warned you. If you let me, I’ll take until you have no more to give. It’s my way.”
He was pulsing, hard, alive against her, and his eyes were glittering wildly in his taut face. Juliette couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. She was beginning to feel a heavy, hot languor sweeping through her and her breasts were swelling, ripening.
His gaze was suddenly intent on the bodice of the gown. “Let me see your breasts. They want me, don’t they? See how they’re pushing against—”
“You should not speak in this way.”
He chuckled. “Since your own tongue is far from discreet, I can’t see how you can reprove me.”
“I did not ask to see your—” She broke off, her color rising even higher. “I mean I—”
“I know exactly what you mean.” His eyes were twinkling as his teeth closed on her left earlobe. “You do not have to ask. I’m at your disposal at any time.”
His teeth were hard as he gnawed gently at the softness of her lobe, and she suddenly felt the warm tip of his tongue in her ear. A hot shiver rippled down her nape and through her body. “Let … me go.”
He immediately released her and leaned lazily back in the chair. “I have no intention of taking you on this chair in the dining room. Robert and Marie might wander in and be shocked.”
She jumped off his lap and whirled to face him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his black eyes glittered with recklessness as he stared at her. She could see the hard length of his manhood outlined against the fitted tightness of his silk trousers and had a sudden tingling memory of how he had felt against her only a moment before. He was savage need clothed in silken elegance. She realized at that moment he wouldn’t care if the entire city saw him have his way with her. The knowledge brought her a queer, half-terrifying excitement. “You are not—I don’t think you’d care!”
“Shall we see if you care?” he challenged softly.
She backed away from him, her gaze fastened on his face. She couldn’t seem to look away from him. She had never really seen this Jean Marc before. She had always known he was there waiting for her. He had even allowed her fleeting glimpses she had chosen to ignore.
But she could ignore them no longer. This was the man to whom innumerable mistresses had whispered pleas and entreaties, the Jean Marc capable of any excess of primitive hunger and sensual indulgence. His eyes appeared to be growing darker, more glittering, dominating the room, dominating her. “No, I don’t want to—” She broke off and shook her head. “This is not why I stayed in Paris.”
“But it’s what you’ll get if you remain.” He looked down at his lower body. “All of it, all the time. Would you like me to tell you all the ways I mean to have you?”
She laughed shakily. “You’re just trying to frighten me into going to Vasaro.”
“You know better.” His gaze rose to her face. “One week. If you’re not on your way to Vasaro in one week, you’ll become my mistress.” He shrugged. “It will happen sometime, it may as well be now. God knows, I feel as if I’ve waited a century already.”
“You’re not stupid and will probably come to your senses in time.”
“I doubt it. I haven’t recovered them in the last five years. You were always there in the back of my mind.”
“Well, I wish you’d let me return to the back of your mind. I’ve no desire to be any man’s mistress. I want only to paint and—”
“I will give you one week before I send you to Vasaro.” He stood up and took a step toward her. “Naturally, during that time I’ll feel free to indulge myself freely with your enchanting person.” His fingers reached out and caressed her throat. “I must have some compensation for the danger you place me in and it will prepare you for more extensive intimacies to come.”
His stroking was gentle and his touch as light as if he were fondling something precious and loved. She wanted to stay there, letting him caress her, letting him look at her with that expression of intoxicating possessiveness.
“You look like a child lifting her face up to be kissed,” he whispered.
“I’m not a child.”
His smile faded. “I know and you never were. That’s always been the problem. I could never keep from wanting you even while I tried to perceive you as a child in need. You always managed to tear me in two.”
“I was never in need. I could care for myself always.” She pulled her gaze away and backed away from him toward the door. “I’m tired and I have to think. I believe
I’ll go to my chamber and—”
She broke off. He was chuckling softly and she glanced at him with a sudden surge of anger. “Stop laughing at me. I don’t like it.” She drew a deep, trembling breath. “I think you’re capable of being very, very cruel, Jean Marc.”
“You may not realize it, but you also have that potential. Which is another reason I want you from under my roof. We could quite possibly rip at each other, and you’re not strong enough for the battle yet. Strange, but I find I don’t want to hurt you.”
Juliette felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. Her breath vanished and another rush of blood scorched her cheeks. What was wrong with her? It couldn’t be Jean Marc who was affecting her in this manner. She would not allow it to be Jean Marc. It must have been the long walk that afternoon that made her knees suddenly weak and trembling.
“This is all nonsense. I have to think,” she muttered, and turned and fled from the room.
Danton rose to his feet and ruefully shook his head as his wife closed the door of his study behind Juliette. “I admit to being so ungallant as to wish never to see you again, Citizeness de Clement. François made no mention to me that you were still in Paris.”
“He doesn’t know.” Juliette threw back the hood of her brown cloak. “May I sit down? I walked from the Place Royale and I’m a trifle weary.”
“By all means.” Danton watched her cross the study and plop down in a cushioned chair. “I assume Andreas doesn’t know of your visit here or he would have provided you with a carriage.”
“Jean Marc wasn’t pleased I decided to stay in Paris. He’d prefer I let him hide me away until he can arrange to send me to Vasaro. I thought it wiser to slip away when I decided to see you.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult. All day he’s either been closeted in his study with huge mountains of documents or speeding off in his carriage to meet someone or other.”
“I’m afraid I concur with Andreas. I’d prefer you hide away also.” His expression hardened. “And I don’t appreciate you coming to my home and risking both your discovery and my own. Raoul Dupree has come to call almost every day of late and I’d not like to give him reason to ask me awkward questions.”
“Well, I could hardly go to the assembly, and I had to see you.”
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the mantel. “I’d be fascinated to learn why.”
“I need your help.”
“To leave Paris?”
“No.” She gestured impatiently. “You sound like Jean Marc. I’m not ready to leave Paris yet. I have something to do first.”
“Indeed?”
“I want to speak to the queen.”
He gazed at her incredulously and then chuckled. “So you’ve come to me? What makes you think I’ll help you?”
“I’m going to find a way to speak to her no matter what. I thought you might prefer to arrange a safe way for me to get into the Temple and out again.” She smiled sweetly. “You wouldn’t want me to be caught. It might be awkward for you.”
“A good point. And exactly what subject do you wish to discuss with Her Majesty?”
“That’s my concern.”
“What if I demand to know as a price for my help?”
“I’ll find help at a cheaper price.”
Danton laughed. “Merde, but you have audacity. It’s a quality I admire.”
“You’ll help me?”
His smile vanished. “Don’t rush me. I’m thinking about it. You wish only to speak to the queen? You have no intention of trying to arrange helping her escape?”
Juliette hesitated. “Not at this time.” She rushed on. “Though you should not have placed them in that horrible place.”
“It’s not so terrible. They have many comforts.” Juliette de Clement was clearly involved in a plot of some sort and reckless enough to risk all their heads if it suited her. Still, audacity often carried the day, and it had always been his opinion it would be better for France if the royal family did escape before the Jacobins sent Louis to the guillotine. The moment the king was beheaded, Danton hadn’t the slightest doubt that both England and Spain would declare war. “Why do you think I’ll be able to get you into the Temple?”
“You’re a man who wants to know everything that’s going on around him. Why else would you hire François Etchelet? The royal family is a danger to your new republic and you make sure you know everything concerning them. Isn’t that true?”
Danton nodded. “You’re very perceptive. I did have François study their situation at the Temple in some depth when they were transferred there from the Tuileries.”
“And you can get me in?”
“We can get almost anyone into the Temple, according to François. Hebert’s precautions are laughable. Entry cards are issued to practically anyone who asks.” He paused. “But it would be impossible to get any member of the royal family out. They’re very closely guarded.”
“I don’t want to get anyone out except myself.”
Danton thought for a moment. “The lamplighter who goes every evening to the Temple often takes members of his family along, and I understand the faces of the members of his family change with his fortunes. A small bribe should suffice.”
“I don’t have any money and I don’t want to ask Jean Marc. He mustn’t know about this.”
“Why not?”
“If he doesn’t want me to go out on the street, do you think he’d want me to go to the Temple?” She frowned. “He’s not being at all reasonable regarding this matter.”
Danton smothered a smile. “I regret not being able to offer you any funds, but I’m only a poor republican official.”
“Let me think.” Juliette was silent a moment. “François. Jean Marc gave him a fortune for marrying Catherine. He can pay the bribe.”
“Perhaps. If he wishes to become involved.”
“He’s already involved.”
“That doesn’t mean he’ll help you. François is a brilliant man, but he can be blind to practicalities on occasion. Two years ago he showed up on my doorstep fresh from the Basque country, burning with the fever of the revolution, begging to serve me in any way I asked of him.” Danton’s lips twisted in a half smile. “Some of the things I asked were not exactly as pure as his ideals, but he never said no to me. He believes the republic will live forever because the Rights of Man are just and good.”
“And you don’t?”
“I believe the republic will be what we make it whether good or evil.” He tilted his head. “And what do you believe in, Citizeness?”
She rose to her feet “I believe people should be left in peace to do what they wish to do.” She drew her hood over her head. “And I believe that people who take away that peace should be punished. Will you speak to François or shall I?”
“I haven’t said I’d cooperate with you.”
“But you will?”
Danton hesitated and then nodded slowly. “And I’ll speak to François. I’ve noticed you lack a certain diplomacy of expression.”
She nodded briskly. “When? It must be soon.”
“Today. And if all goes well, you’ll go to the Temple tomorrow evening. I’ll see that the queen receives a message to the effect that if she goes for a walk in the courtyard when the sun is about to set, she may be pleasantly surprised.” He bowed mockingly. “If that will suit your convenience.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here at—”
“No, I’ll tell François to meet you down the street from the Andreas house just before dusk. I have no wish to have you on my doorstep again.” His lips twisted. “Your disguise leaves a great deal to be desired.”
“I had no time to think about disguises.”
“I suggest you take the time if you intend to continue to dash about Paris.”
“I will.” She started for the door. “I suppose you’re right and it would be wise to—”
A soft knock sounded at the door and his wife opened the door. “Georges Jacqu
es, it’s Citizen Dupree.” Her tone was stilted. “Shall I show him in?”
“In a moment, chérie. Don’t tell him of our visitor.”
“I’ll not speak to him at all. It makes me ill to look at him.” Gabrielle shut the door.
Nor did she speak often to her own husband anymore, Danton thought with a wrenching pang. She shrank away from him as she did from anyone connected with the massacres.
He turned abruptly away and gestured toward the door on the other side of the study. “That door leads to a small garden with a gate that lets out onto the street. Hurry.”
Juliette moved quickly across the room. “Tomorrow.”
Danton nodded and then watched dully as the door closed behind her. He was not thinking of his rash young visitor, but of his wife. Gabrielle would forgive him in time. Their love was too deep to be lost because of politics. In a few months she would be fine again.
“Georges Jacques, I dropped by to bring you the latest copy of ‘Père Duchesne’.” Danton turned to see Dupree standing in the doorway. Dupree moved forward and dropped a copy of Marat’s inflammatory pamphlet on the desk. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d give you one of the first copies.”
“You’re too kind, Citizen.”
Dupree shrugged. “I believe in serving my friends well.” He crossed to the window. “I’ll be glad to wait for—” He broke off, stiffening, his gaze on the street.
“What’s wrong?” Danton quickly crossed the study to stand beside Dupree. Juliette de Clement was disappearing around the corner, but nothing was visible except the back of her cloak, he noticed with relief. “Is something amiss, Citizen?”
“Perhaps not.” Dupree frowned. “That woman looked familiar.”
“Which woman?”
“The woman in the brown cloak. She’s gone now.”
“You know her?”
“There was something in the way she moved.”
“You frequent the Comédie Française. Perhaps she’s an actress you’ve had occasion to see there.”
“Possibly.” Dupree shrugged. “However, if I do know her, I’ll eventually remember. I have an excellent memory.”