Forbidden (48 page)

"Do you like the tapestries?" He could have been conducting a house tour, so complacent was his voice and smile. "Nobles at play."

The walls were hung with scenes of leisure in which richly dressed ladies and lords postured in mannered indolence. They dined al fresco in a wooded glen, walked idly in a rose garden of great beauty, sat their richly caparisoned horses while two huntsmen stuck killing lances into a wild boar.

Her clan's summer lodges were painted with scenes from Absarokee life; her father's lodge more splendid than most. But the deeds depicted on the painted lodges were those of action and courage serving as pictorial history and lessons from the past, not ones of self-indulgent pleasure. "You must feel comfortable here," Daisy said, thin-skinned and touchy. "Everyone's in pursuit of pleasure."

"You fit in better than you think, darling, in that cloth of gold gown and your diamonds." He had the key to the locked door in his hand.

"I don't know how you think you can get by with this," Daisy said, ignoring his jibe, more aware than he how much persuasion had been required to convince her to travel East. "The house is literally filled with guests, and even before my family might miss me, Nadine is sure to come looking for you. She's not the dulcet feminine chatelaine she impersonates. So why don't you unlock that door and we can both return downstairs. My family will be happy, Nadine will be happy, I'll be happy—"

"But I won't."

He closed the small distance between them, his smile sweet and redolent, as though she hadn't voiced her objections, as though they were young lovers alone at last in the harmony of their contentment. "I see the buttons are in the back," he said, his voice velvet. "Turn around so I can reach them."

"You're not listening to me," Daisy remonstrated.

"I heard every word. You're probably right about everything… almost everything," he gently modified. "Turn around."

When she didn't, when she stood scowling at him, her nostrils flaring in anger, he took her by her arms and turned her himself.

"What if I were to fight you?" she resentfully said, half swiveling around to stare at him. This was astonishing, she was thinking, being taken captive in a house with hundreds of guests present. He was mad.

His sigh was one of consolation. "Be realistic, darling."

He towered over her, powerful and fit, his large hands lightly. grasping her shoulders, the splinted bandage on his right hand rough on her skin, reminding her of his defensive combat on the polo field that afternoon. If he was a match for her father and brother… he was right about being realistic.

"You'll pay later then, Etienne," she threatened. "I promise."

"You pay for everything in this world, darling. Didn't you know that?" And he began opening the short range of covered buttons at her waist, with less finesse than usual because he was awkward left-handed.

Daisy stood stiff-backed and silent as he loosened her gown, steeling herself with anger against the warm touch of his fingers. When he'd slipped all the buttons free of their small loops, he bent to kiss the satiny curve of her shoulder. She shut her eyes at the warm softness of his mouth, willing herself not to respond. She felt his hair against her neck, smelled the fragrance of his pine-scented cologne, repressed a sigh as the familiar touch of his fingertips traced a gentle path down her spine.

"Please don't, Etienne. It's not fair. You're not fair. I don't want to be here. I don't want you to touch me. I don't want you to kiss me. I don't. I don't. I—"

Swinging her around so she faced him, he covered her mouth with his, to stop her protest, stop the words, repress all the negatives crowding her mind, make her feel what he was feeling. He had confidence in his experience as well as the indefensible authority of his strength. He intended to woo her because gallantry was preferable to force, but he was determined to have her and the means were incidental to the end.

Holding her close, his palms on the low curve of her spine, he forced her head back with the intensity of his kiss. In only partially contained violence, he ate at her mouth, bringing his splinted hand up swiftly to secure her more firmly under the pressure of his lips. Moving his leg into the gathered folds of her skirt, he forced her backward the few steps to the door and leaning into the softness of her body, pressed his pulsing erection forcibly against her.

He felt her caught breath in his mouth and shut his eyes for a moment against the consuming fire in his brain. Frantically he beat down the ramming speed mentality screaming through his mind. Since Daisy had left nine weeks ago, he hadn't had a woman. Perhaps that, too, accounted for his reckless irresponsibility tonight. Perhaps he was indeed mad, for he could have had Nadine or any number of women downstairs, in leisurely and acceptable dalliance—not like this—not putting his life at risk with Daisy's father and brother downstairs, with the woman in his arms resisting.

Not precisely resisting, he decided a moment later, as Daisy's spine relaxed under his hand.

Her sensuous yielding had nothing to do with him; she would have responded the same way with any man after all this time, Daisy told herself, as heat spiraled upward from deep inside her, as the sensation of Etienne's arousal brought hurtlingly clear graphic recall of their passionate days together. Any man would do… after nine weeks. Any man. Any man… the litany keeping time with the racing beat of her heart and her kindling flame of desire. Overcome suddenly with exquisite sensation, Daisy felt the quivering fullness of her breasts with such finite sensitivity it seemed as though Etienne's bare chest touched her nipples, as though no clothing separated them.

And a moment later when he lifted her arms one at a time onto his shoulders, instead of resisting, she allowed him to place her hands on the soft wool of his evening jacket because her nipples were stimulated jewel-hard and she wished to experience the abrasive pleasure of moving upward on his chest.

The Duke felt the tautly roused crests because Daisy didn't wear a corset and only the silk of her gown and chemise were barriers to sensation. "Sweet Daisy," he breathed, lifting his mouth from hers, so he could look into her eyes. "I've missed you."

Her smile was spontaneous, seductive. She no longer wished to reason or deliberate, as if the door on cognitive thought had decisively shut with a clang. She wished only to impetuously feel. "I can tell," she whispered, lifting herself on tiptoe to brush his lips with a kiss, moving her hips in a slow inducement of desire. Dropping her dark lashes in languorous approval when Etienne's erection surged in response, she breathed,

"Mmmmm. I remember that."

"I can improve on your memory," Etienne murmured with a smile, sure now they were both in delicious accord, mentally judging the distance to the gigantic bed, gratified to have his darling Daisy back. Bending swiftly, he swept Daisy into his arms and held her for a moment, relishing her closeness.

They smiled at each other, their faces mere inches away, Daisy's cloth of gold skirt billowing over his arm onto the plum ground of the Flemish carpet. Reaching up, Daisy touched the black silk of Etienne's hair, trailing her fingers through the soft waves resting behind his ear, a familiar gesture from their days together. His hair curled more than hers and she used to tease him he was more beautiful. Tonight she was certain of it in the intensity of her desire; in white tie and evening dress, he always took her breath away. Running a fingertip over the heavy arc of his brow, she whispered as she had so many times before, "Are you mine?"

He nodded, his eyes shining brilliant green and happy.

"Etienne! Etienne! Are you in there?" Nadine's voice came through the Circassian walnut door, sharp, clear, and snappish, for she'd discovered from the footman the Duc had gone upstairs with a lady.

"Fuck," the Duc softly swore. "Fuck."

"Precisely what she wants," Daisy acidly muttered, stiffening in his arms. "Put me down," she quietly added, her voice chill as the grave.

The door handle rocked. "I know you're in there, Etienne. Now open the door!" Since the key only locked from the inside, there was no question someone was in the room.

For a brief moment the Duc hesitated, but his anger had dissipated in the sensual warmth of Daisy's response, and with it his rash unconcern for appearances. Resentment had driven him when he'd dragged her up the stairs, an inexplicable alienation and obsession—gone now as swiftly as it had surfaced.

"In a moment!" he shouted, placing Daisy on her feet. "I'm sorry," he quietly murmured.

"Naturally."

"Hell and damnation," he muttered, adding a string of mildly pejorative curses having to do with timing. Daisy's tone meant a thousand more explanations, ten thousand apologies, and had she been a normal woman of normal greed, a king's ransom in jewelry. He smiled then, despite his daunting prospect of penance, because her uncommon femaleness was what most attracted him.

"You find this amusing," she heatedly whispered, incensed at his casual drollery, more incensed she'd almost succumbed to his equally casual seduction.

"Hell, no," he whispered back, grinning.

"I hate you and your degage debauchery."

"I love you, anyway,
chou chou
, and when I get rid of Nadine, I'm coming looking for you."

"Don't you dare," Daisy whispered, furious she'd given in so readily to his seduction, furious he felt he could so facilely reenter her life.

"You're talking to the wrong person, darling," the Duc murmured, cheerfully looking forward even to penance, "about daring. Now turn around and I'll try to button up your dress in a hurry, because Nadine is going to break the door down soon and there's no way you can reach these buttons yourself. Hold on, Nadine," he shouted, "I'm changing my shirt."

He slipped out the door several moments later with a blown kiss and a broad grin for Daisy, and a conciliatory smile for his hostess.

"Damned if I didn't spill some wine on my shirt front," Daisy heard him mendaciously declare before the door closed completely on his back. "You missed me? How nice. Of course I was alone. The footmen must have seen someone else," he declared, his voice friendly, his hand on his hostess's arm, guiding her away down the hall, his eyes innocent to her speculative gaze. "Tell me about Oliver's ginseng." His grin was mischievous. "Does it really work?"

As they reached the staircase, he exhaled a slow breath of relief over his companion's unsuspecting head. Running raking fingers through his hair, he inhaled in satisfaction and contentment unknown to him for over two months. "Damn nice party, Nadine," he commended. "My compliments on your organizing skills."

Looking up at him as they descended the carved marble staircase, Nadine flirtatiously said, "I've other skills you may enjoy as well, Etienne."

"So I've heard," Etienne blandly replied, evading her double entendre. "My daughter tells me you actually helped the architect design this building. I'm impressed."

Nadine preened under the Duc's warm smile and decided he'd be equally impressed with some of her special talents in bed. "I'll give you a tour later," she said apropos both subjects.

"Alva must be envious."

"She will be."

Several groups of party guests, including the Braddock-Blacks, were standing near the entrance to the ballroom, and for a moment the Duc wondered if the footman had informed them of the identity of the lady accompanying him upstairs. But he wasn't challenged as he came into range, nor was he called out when Nadine approached the Braddock-Blacks. Like a hummingbird to nectar, Nadine gravitated naturally to handsome men, her seductress mentality intrinsically responsive to men like Hazard, Trey, and the Duc—prototypes for male beauty.

"Hazard, darling, Trey my pet," she cooed, smiling her special smile reserved for stunning men. "You're looking wonderful," she purred, touching Hazard lightly on his chin with her fan. "And Blaze, sweetheart," she added with less ardent cordiality, "your Worth gown almost does justice to your diamonds. You have a generous husband. Why Empress, you lovely girl, how very Parisian you look tonight in that elegant cherry tulle. Do I detect Doucet's touch?"

With Nadine's hand on his arm, they were greeted with not only civility but, surprisingly, Etienne thought, with a certain warmth. Empress of course was always friendly to him and Blaze was cordial as she'd been that afternoon. But the degree of geniality he received from the men was a staggering concept to absorb as he shook hands with Hazard and Trey. He looked at them closely, trying to understand the bewildering volte-face after the near lethal polo match that afternoon.

Two years earlier, in Paris, he'd met Trey face-to-face, but never Hazard. Daisy's father was taller off his polo pony, his bronzed skin darker under the artificial lights, like Daisy's. And he wore his hair longer than his son's, in the fashion of his generation, giving him a regal air despite the uniformity of his evening dress.

"How's your hand?" Hazard asked, his expression unreadable, his voice contained but courteous.

"I wouldn't mind if the play-off were postponed a day." Why was this man being pleasant to him?

"Doesn't Daisy have something that would help the Duc's hand?" Blaze asked her husband.

An almost infinitesimal glance passed from Hazard to his wife, briefly disconcerted and taut, but she smiled at him and he seemed to take a small breath before he said, "I'm sure she does. You should ask her," he suggested to Etienne, his dark eyes deliberate and watchful.

So that was it, Etienne reflected. Daisy's father was operating under a degree of subtle coercion from his wife. "I will," the Duc said with a smile. "Next time I see her."

Hazard's scowl was instant.

"Tell me, Trey," Nadine interjected, uninterested in discussing Daisy, "can Oliver purchase that gorgeous paint pony you were riding the first period of the match this afternoon? He particularly asked me to inquire." Her gaze was unabashedly honeyed.

Familiar with Nadine's coquetry, Trey replied with a pleasant smile, "Sorry, Jumma's a pet, but we've others Oliver can have. We brought thirty with us." Horse breeding was one of their profitable ventures, their polo ponies rivaling the best out of Argentina. In fact, in terms of stamina, a necessary asset in a polo mount, their plains ponies outperformed the Argentinian breeds.

"You're at Rutherford's?" At his affirmative nod, Nadine said, "Tomorrow then… I'll be over. Say at one?" Nadine's father had been a trainer in the Kentucky horse country before his death, and her early years had been spent in the stables with him. She knew horseflesh as well as she knew male flesh. "Come with me, Etienne," she coaxed, her voice a husky intimate contralto.

Empress and Blaze exchanged looks while Hazard searched the Duc's face for his reaction to Nadine's intimacy. Daisy might want him and Blaze could pressure him to a social courtesy, but if the man was casually accepting female favors, he'd find a way to change Daisy's mind.

"I promised Hector a day at the beach, Nadine." Etienne's smile was pleasant but detached.

Hmmm, Hazard thought.

His grandson before Nadine. The man showed good judgment at least.

"Did I hear Hector's name?" Appearing from behind a towering floral arrangement flanking the door to the ballroom, Jolie and Henri joined them.

"I was telling Nadine, Hector has a day at the beach planned for us. You know everyone, don't you?" the Duc said, the presence of his daughter and son-in-law a comfortable addition to the disproportionate number of Braddock-Blacks.

"But Etienne, you promised me as well. My picnic, remember, to Barkley lighthouse?"

"Forgive me, but Hector's too young to understand if his plans are altered. Perhaps next time I can join you."

A polite but definite dismissal, Hazard noted with satisfaction… or perhaps Nadine simply wasn't the Duc's style, he cynically reflected.

"I hope you haven't changed your mind as well, Empress," Nadine sulkily said, her full lower lip pouty.

"We'll be there. Trey's reserved me a day away from polo, and Daisy told me she's looking forward to painting the lighthouse. She's very good with watercolors."

"I could stop by later," the Duc quietly said, "when Hector goes in for his nap."

"Thank heaven for little boys' naptimes," Nadine purred, leaning into Etienne's side, "although big boys' naptimes can be heavenly too," she added in a low breathy whisper, meant for his ears alone.

"There's Daisy now," Blaze remarked, saving the Duc the necessity of responding to Nadine's sultry innuendo.

"She
was
upstairs!" Nadine muttered, her narrow blue gaze on Daisy descending the staircase, her mind swiftly attempting to sort out the possibilities of where and why she was upstairs. "Did you know that?" Her pale eyes critically assessed the Duc.

Although the others hadn't caught her words, her tone was decipherable. Nadine alone wasn't interested in the Duc's answer.

"No. Did I miss something?" Etienne inquired mildly, aware he was the cynosure of everyone's gaze.

"Good luck, Papa," Jolie whispered and when he turned to look at her, she winked like she had as a child when they'd shared confidences from the sterner discipline of Isabelle and numerous governesses.

He grinned back at her with an unburdened joy she hadn't seen in months.

Good Lord, Daisy thought, startled at the full array of family assembled in the hallway below. Was something of importance being discussed? Hopefully not, with Nadine in attendance. Mentally reviewing her appearance, she also hoped her dress was suitably composed, with no buttons left undone or chemise straps showing. Was her hair still properly arranged? Although distinctly nervous, faced with such a fascinated audience, she resisted checking, in the event her gesture caused comment.

She needed an excuse, she rapidly contemplated, stepping off the last carpeted stair, only fifty feet separating her from a certain inquisition. An excuse for Nadine at least. The others might be inclined to politeness. Unfortunately her mind was blank of suitable subterfuge, filled instead with graphic images of Etienne, her emotions pervaded with erotic sensation. Damn him, she couldn't think.

Fortuitously, at that precise moment, the entrance doors were thrown open by two footmen, and a sweeping cool damp breeze blew in from the ocean, bringing in its wake her uncle Kitredge Braddock with Valerie Stewart on his arm.

Attention was immediately diverted from Daisy.

Valerie! With Kit! The shock of their attachment registered in varying degrees on everyone's faces.

"Greetings!" Kit shouted, waving, his grin instant. "Well, darlings," he drawled as he strode nearer, his white tie slightly askew like his lopsided smile, "and the whole family's here now."

Wildness on the prowl was Daisy's first thought, with wanton sybaritic pleasure on his arm, she waspishly appended, taking in her brother's short-lived ex-wife, suitably unchaste in purple chiffon lined provocatively in blush silk. A sportive match, at least, without great need for conversation. Like Etienne and his darling Nadine, she peevishly noted.

Kit gave Daisy a smile and a brushing kiss on her cheek as they both reached the waiting group, then turned his sunny grin on the mildly shocked countenances observing him.

"Sorry I'm so late," he affably said to everyone in general, his dark brows rising slightly in the direction of his disheveled auburn hair, "I met Valerie earlier today at Bailey's Beach. Valerie, you don't need introductions, do you?" he casually added, swinging her hand in time to some inner music.

"I don't know
everyone
." Valerie murmured. Like Nadine, a connoisseur of masculine beauty and sensual pleasure, Valerie focused on the Duc de Vec, who hadn't previously come into her predatory range.

"I see why you didn't show up for dinner," Trey murmured, while Valerie flashed a pretty smile at the Duc who was being introduced to her by a sulky Nadine. Trey's brows were raised in masculine understanding of Kit's delay.

Kit grinned. "Your ex-wife is…"

"… Accomplished," Trey said, his smile discerning.

Kit's grin broke into a wide smile. "Definitely a woman of accomplishments."

"Just as long as you don't have something she wants."

"Oh, I think you've financed her sufficiently to leave me and all her other 'interests' free from her avaricious instincts. Thank you, by the way." Kit chuckled.

"A cheap enough price for my freedom. You're more than welcome." The intervening years and the contentment of his life had mitigated his resentment toward Valerie. She'd also had the good sense to keep her distance from Belle, the child she'd left for him to raise.

Taking in the massed array of family, Kit quietly inquired, "Have I missed anything?"

"Only a possible case of one absent sister. You arrived opportunely and saved her from everyone's avid regard."

"Daisy?"

Trey nodded.

"Absent with… from?"

"With… I believe." Trey's eyes moved in the direction of the Duc.

Kit's brows rose again, his green eyes wide with interest. He and Daisy had been the last holdouts against the heated tempests of love—for quite opposite reasons. On his part, he'd always found the delectable choices too limitless to narrow down; Daisy's critical selection process, on the other hand, eliminated most of the male population.

"You're looking well, Trey," Valerie said, transferring her attention from the Duc who had been engaged in conversation by a protective Nadine, to her ex-husband.

"And you're looking… healthy, Valerie." A mildly sardonic intonation took into account the precarious state of her bountiful bosom alarmingly close to popping out from the immodest confines of her low-cut gown.

She was pleased he'd noticed, recognizing his lazy, assessing scrutiny. She would have kept him if she could have, Valerie thought, taking in her former husband, dark and beautiful as sin with those silvery eyes she could still remember smiling at her from very close range in those long-ago days when they'd still been lovers. But Trey Braddock-Black had been elusive, even within her marriage trap.

"No hard feelings?" she inquired, he voice dulcet and inviting.

"Not after two years," he said with a cultivated civility. But his pale eyes took on a hard edge for a moment when he considered how she'd almost ruined his life. Reaching out, he took Empress's hand in his and pulled her close.

Turning from her conversation with Jolie, Empress quietly said, "Hello, Valerie." She leaned into Trey's shoulder, sure of his love, secure against Valerie's style of attraction, confident of her husband's faithfulness. "Was the beach busy?" she asked, Kit's comment about Bailey's Beach piquing her interest since she knew Valerie wasn't the athletic type.

"Not early in the day." Valerie smiled at Kit. "The water was cold."

"We went out for a sail instead," Kit offered. Which explained to everyone the lateness of their arrival. Kit's sailing craft, specially designed for ocean travel, had all the luxuries—including an extremely large stateroom.

With Daisy too close for comfort and Valerie's capricious attention a possible threat, Nadine abruptly declared, "I want to dance." Unshy and assertive under the most benign circumstances, with the Duc's strong arm beneath her hand and her husband sleeping peacefully off in the far west wing, she was avowedly determined to keep the Duc for herself. "Right now," she added, firmly, gazing up at the Duc.