deserters.” He now looked up at her. “There are a number of possible scenarios. They may have even decided to leave me behind and let me die when they reached Brest.”
She was shaken. How could his men have left him to die? Had they been such cowards? He was staring closely at her now. She trembled. “Thank God Jack found you! I didn’t understand why he brought you to Cornwall,” she said, their gazes locked, “but maybe he mistook you for a fellow smuggler. Knowing my brother, he might have been in a rush to disembark. He is usually on the run from one navy or another, or the revenue men. I am guessing that instead of leaving you to die, he simply brought you on board his ship and cast off. Lucas must also have thought you were a smuggler.”
“No matter what happened, I am fortunate, am I not? Had Jack not rescued me, I would not be here now, with you.”
His regard was filled with significance. “I am so glad he rescued you,” she said softly. “Jack will be back, sooner or later, and then we can find out what really happened.”
He reached across the table and took her hand and enclosed it in his larger one. “Fate put me in your hands,” he said. “Isn’t that enough, for now? You have saved my life.”
His soft tone washed through her, causing so much tension.
As she watched him, he sighed, releasing her hand and rubbing his neck again. “Thank God,” he said softly, “for Jack.”
She watched him rub his neck.
He caught her watching him and grimaced. “I have been in bed for far too long, I think. My neck is terribly stiff.”
The tension within her thickened. She could help him—if she dared. “Are you in pain?”
“Some.”
Her heart went out to him. She wanted to comfort him. But there was more. She wanted to touch him.
She had bathed him while he was unconscious. She knew what his skin felt like, what his muscles felt like. In the space of seconds, she was breathless.
She slowly stood up, barely able to believe herself. She felt like a different woman, someone older, wiser and experienced. The Julianne she knew—that her family and friends knew—would never do what she meant to do now.
His eyes became languid and watchful.
She whispered, “Can I help ease you, monsieur? ”
He was looking up at her. “Oui.”
She walked around the table, toward him. She moved behind him, almost dazed. She began kneading his neck.
He made a deep, guttural sound. It was terribly male and terribly sensual.
Desire renewed itself, instantly. All other thoughts vanished and she began to increase the pressure on the knotted muscles of his neck with her thumbs, trying not to tremble, trying not to breathe. And as she did so, she felt the muscles there soften slightly; his head tilted back.
If he knew he had lain his head against her breasts, he gave no sign.
J ULIANNE HAD ALREADY CHECKED upon Charles several times that morning, but he had been asleep. Still, he was recovering from being shot and the resulting infection—and she hadn’t left his bedchamber till half past ten last night.
She bit her lip. It was noon now. Her heart was racing like a schoolgirl’s, she thought, pausing in the corridor outside his door. Had she imagined it, or was something wonderful happening? He found her beautiful—he had said so, several times. He seemed as aware of her as she was of him. And they were both passionate revolutionaries. What if they were falling in love?
If only she were more experienced. She had never been as interested in anyone before. The feelings she had could not be one-sided!
But she was going to have to ask him about Nadine. She had to know about his relationship with the other woman.
She looked inside, smiling nervously. Charles was standing at the window. He was shirtless, staring outside. For one moment, she stared at his broad shoulders, his muscular chest and his narrow waist. Her mouth dry, her pulse pounding, she whispered, “Monsieur? Bonjour.”
He turned slowly,
She was shaken. How could his men have left him to die? Had they been such cowards? He was staring closely at her now. She trembled. “Thank God Jack found you! I didn’t understand why he brought you to Cornwall,” she said, their gazes locked, “but maybe he mistook you for a fellow smuggler. Knowing my brother, he might have been in a rush to disembark. He is usually on the run from one navy or another, or the revenue men. I am guessing that instead of leaving you to die, he simply brought you on board his ship and cast off. Lucas must also have thought you were a smuggler.”
“No matter what happened, I am fortunate, am I not? Had Jack not rescued me, I would not be here now, with you.”
His regard was filled with significance. “I am so glad he rescued you,” she said softly. “Jack will be back, sooner or later, and then we can find out what really happened.”
He reached across the table and took her hand and enclosed it in his larger one. “Fate put me in your hands,” he said. “Isn’t that enough, for now? You have saved my life.”
His soft tone washed through her, causing so much tension.
As she watched him, he sighed, releasing her hand and rubbing his neck again. “Thank God,” he said softly, “for Jack.”
She watched him rub his neck.
He caught her watching him and grimaced. “I have been in bed for far too long, I think. My neck is terribly stiff.”
The tension within her thickened. She could help him—if she dared. “Are you in pain?”
“Some.”
Her heart went out to him. She wanted to comfort him. But there was more. She wanted to touch him.
She had bathed him while he was unconscious. She knew what his skin felt like, what his muscles felt like. In the space of seconds, she was breathless.
She slowly stood up, barely able to believe herself. She felt like a different woman, someone older, wiser and experienced. The Julianne she knew—that her family and friends knew—would never do what she meant to do now.
His eyes became languid and watchful.
She whispered, “Can I help ease you, monsieur? ”
He was looking up at her. “Oui.”
She walked around the table, toward him. She moved behind him, almost dazed. She began kneading his neck.
He made a deep, guttural sound. It was terribly male and terribly sensual.
Desire renewed itself, instantly. All other thoughts vanished and she began to increase the pressure on the knotted muscles of his neck with her thumbs, trying not to tremble, trying not to breathe. And as she did so, she felt the muscles there soften slightly; his head tilted back.
If he knew he had lain his head against her breasts, he gave no sign.
J ULIANNE HAD ALREADY CHECKED upon Charles several times that morning, but he had been asleep. Still, he was recovering from being shot and the resulting infection—and she hadn’t left his bedchamber till half past ten last night.
She bit her lip. It was noon now. Her heart was racing like a schoolgirl’s, she thought, pausing in the corridor outside his door. Had she imagined it, or was something wonderful happening? He found her beautiful—he had said so, several times. He seemed as aware of her as she was of him. And they were both passionate revolutionaries. What if they were falling in love?
If only she were more experienced. She had never been as interested in anyone before. The feelings she had could not be one-sided!
But she was going to have to ask him about Nadine. She had to know about his relationship with the other woman.
She looked inside, smiling nervously. Charles was standing at the window. He was shirtless, staring outside. For one moment, she stared at his broad shoulders, his muscular chest and his narrow waist. Her mouth dry, her pulse pounding, she whispered, “Monsieur? Bonjour.”
He turned slowly,
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