would give her three days to find an opportunity to find his capture. And seize it.
More maddening silence.
Why didn’t he respond? If only she could decipher his thoughts.
“Look at me.” She opened her arms theatrically. “I am no threat to a man like you.”
His tactile gaze moved down her body then back up and met her eyes. He stepped closer and cupped her face in his warm palm. Her nerve endings sparked to life. “You want to stay with me, do you?” His thumb lightly brushed her cheek.
“Yes,” she said, a little too breathless.
“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you say?” His touch was distracting.
“There are many in my situation in the realm. Why are my words so difficult to believe? I’ve confessed the truth about the wine, about my original motives. I’m simply a woman in dire straits. A woman who . . .” The truth caught in her throat. Say it! “Who found unexpected pleasure in a stranger’s arms. Couldn’t you tell there was nothing false about how your touch affected me?”
“Your passion wasn’t a lie,” he conceded. His sensuous voice stroked over her like a caress. His hand continued to cradle her cheek, with tender appeal.
“May I stay with you, then? Will you escort me to Maillard?” She had such an overwhelming urge to put her arms around him and lean against his strong body. And it astounded her. She never leaned on anyone. Ever. Everyone always leaned on her .
She kept her arms at her sides, by force of will, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to his mouth. A mouth that was all too perfect in too many ways.
The more he touched her, the longer he remained close, the more she craved both. He was drawing her back under his influence, and she was having a difficult time locating the will to fight it. She had no understanding of the unbreakable attraction she had to this man.
Though it wasn’t going stop her from doing what she had to do.
She’d either find a way to master it, or submit to it. Whatever it takes . . . She was a survivor. And ultimately the victor in this charade.
“Please, I would very much like to stay with you,” she said.
“Really.” His tone was far too bland for her liking. “Is that all you want, Elise?”
She gazed into his eyes. So darkly sensual. Far too stirring.
Whatever it takes . . . Say the words . If you don’t, he could assign one of his men to escort you to Maillard, sending you away from the camp and the silver . “I’d like you . . . to show me more of the same kind of bliss you showed me tonight.” When this was over, she’d force herself to forget this night and all the shocking things Elise had done and was about to do.
Jules slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against him. A wave of pleasure crested over her. He dipped his head. “Is that so?” he whispered near her mouth.
She couldn’t speak, not when his lips were so close to her own. Not when she urgently wanted him to kiss her.
His mouth came down on hers. She closed her eyes. Her womb clenched. Enthralled by his taste, she could feel her passion mounting. She pressed herself against his solid muscled form, feeling herself pulled into a dream she’d had once. And lost.
He pulled away, and stepped back. She slammed back into reality.
She was left missing the contact, mournful of the brevity of his kiss. And grappling with the usual discomposure he caused with but the briefest physical contact.
He had his head down, his long strong fingers at work refastening his breeches.
“Well?” she nudged, tamping down the carnal craving he’d stirred. “What is your answer?”
He looked up at her, his task completed. Snagging his shirt off the blankets, he threw it on and cocked a brow.
“You wish to know if I’ll let you stay and be your lover for the next three days until we reach Maillard?”
“Yes,” she answered.
He stepped close to her again. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what your friends have
More maddening silence.
Why didn’t he respond? If only she could decipher his thoughts.
“Look at me.” She opened her arms theatrically. “I am no threat to a man like you.”
His tactile gaze moved down her body then back up and met her eyes. He stepped closer and cupped her face in his warm palm. Her nerve endings sparked to life. “You want to stay with me, do you?” His thumb lightly brushed her cheek.
“Yes,” she said, a little too breathless.
“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you say?” His touch was distracting.
“There are many in my situation in the realm. Why are my words so difficult to believe? I’ve confessed the truth about the wine, about my original motives. I’m simply a woman in dire straits. A woman who . . .” The truth caught in her throat. Say it! “Who found unexpected pleasure in a stranger’s arms. Couldn’t you tell there was nothing false about how your touch affected me?”
“Your passion wasn’t a lie,” he conceded. His sensuous voice stroked over her like a caress. His hand continued to cradle her cheek, with tender appeal.
“May I stay with you, then? Will you escort me to Maillard?” She had such an overwhelming urge to put her arms around him and lean against his strong body. And it astounded her. She never leaned on anyone. Ever. Everyone always leaned on her .
She kept her arms at her sides, by force of will, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to his mouth. A mouth that was all too perfect in too many ways.
The more he touched her, the longer he remained close, the more she craved both. He was drawing her back under his influence, and she was having a difficult time locating the will to fight it. She had no understanding of the unbreakable attraction she had to this man.
Though it wasn’t going stop her from doing what she had to do.
She’d either find a way to master it, or submit to it. Whatever it takes . . . She was a survivor. And ultimately the victor in this charade.
“Please, I would very much like to stay with you,” she said.
“Really.” His tone was far too bland for her liking. “Is that all you want, Elise?”
She gazed into his eyes. So darkly sensual. Far too stirring.
Whatever it takes . . . Say the words . If you don’t, he could assign one of his men to escort you to Maillard, sending you away from the camp and the silver . “I’d like you . . . to show me more of the same kind of bliss you showed me tonight.” When this was over, she’d force herself to forget this night and all the shocking things Elise had done and was about to do.
Jules slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against him. A wave of pleasure crested over her. He dipped his head. “Is that so?” he whispered near her mouth.
She couldn’t speak, not when his lips were so close to her own. Not when she urgently wanted him to kiss her.
His mouth came down on hers. She closed her eyes. Her womb clenched. Enthralled by his taste, she could feel her passion mounting. She pressed herself against his solid muscled form, feeling herself pulled into a dream she’d had once. And lost.
He pulled away, and stepped back. She slammed back into reality.
She was left missing the contact, mournful of the brevity of his kiss. And grappling with the usual discomposure he caused with but the briefest physical contact.
He had his head down, his long strong fingers at work refastening his breeches.
“Well?” she nudged, tamping down the carnal craving he’d stirred. “What is your answer?”
He looked up at her, his task completed. Snagging his shirt off the blankets, he threw it on and cocked a brow.
“You wish to know if I’ll let you stay and be your lover for the next three days until we reach Maillard?”
“Yes,” she answered.
He stepped close to her again. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what your friends have
Similar Books
