La Flamme (Historical Romance) (18 page)

Instead of escorting her to the formal dining room, he led her to a salon on the second floor, where a table had been placed in front of a window with a sweeping view of the Seine.

She watched tiny lights bobbing up and down and realized that they were fishing boats.

"I've never been here. It's quite lovely." She turned to him, smiling. "Have you brought many women here?"

She had thought he would laugh or make some humorous remark. But he steered her to the table and seated her before he answered. One hand came down on her shoulder, and he raised her chin with the other. "You are the only woman I have ever brought here, but as you are aware, this is not my home."

Shame and anger washed over her at the reminder of Stephen. Did he know of Garreth's plans with her this evening? "Surely Stephen was not a party to your bringing me here."

"No, of course not." Garreth wondered who La Flamme thought she was fooling by pretending to be so maidenly, when they both knew she was not. "You will find that I have been discreet."

His hand seemed to burn into her skin, and Sabine was frightened by her reaction to him. She started to rise. "I should leave."

"Please stay. You have my word that you are safe with me."

She dropped back into the chair while he moved around the small table to sit opposite her. For a long moment, his eyes lingered on her face.

"Tonight, let us play a game," he said at last.

"Before 1 agree to that," she replied, intrigued, "you must first tell me what kind of game."

He had a scheme that he hoped would draw her secrets from her. "It's simple. We shall be totally honest with each other." He arched his brow. "Dare you play my game?"

"I will agree to be honest, but I shall also add rules of my own. If the question becomes too personal, and if either of us do not wish to answer, we shall keep our silence. Agreed?"

A servant entered, placed covered dishes on the table, then quietly withdrew. Garreth poured La Flamme a glass of wine before he answered. "I agree to your terms."

She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. "You go first, Monsieur le due."

"Could you not call me Garreth?"

"Of course, Garreth," she said with a smile. "Is that your first question?"

He watched her carefully. "And what shall I call you?"

She raised her glass to his. "You may, as you already know, call me La Flamme."

"What do your friends call you?"

"I have few friends."

"You dance around the truth very cleverly. By what name does Monsieur de Baillard call you?"

"I choose not to answer."

"Which is an answer in itself," Garreth observed. "Your reluctance proves that the de Baillards know your real name—true?"

"True," she agreed. "Now it's my turn, Garreth Blackthorn."

He sat back in the chair, his eyes on her. "I am ready."

"You said you had been married?"

"Yes."

"And you consider yourself still married?"

He hesitated, wondering if he could make her understand. "It is accepted by most people that my wife is dead, but I am not so sure."

Sabine tensed, swallowing her fear. "Did you love your wife?"

The food on the table went uneaten as they both became engrossed in their game, and in each other. "In truth, I hardly knew her. She was little more than a child. I never knew her as a husband."

She gathered her courage to question him further. "How can that be? Was she so repulsive that you could not tolerate the sight of her?"

"I have tried to recall her face, and all I can remember is a pair of golden eyes, not unlike your own. She was merely a lovely child."

Sabine dropped her eyes. "Tell me more about her."

This game was not going as Garreth had intended, but he would answer her questions. "I have spoken to no one about her for so long because everyone else believes she is dead and encourages me to do the same. Her name is Sabine, and she was a frightened little girl who had been forced to marry a man she didn't know. I can recall feeling mostly pity for her."

The candles flickered and burned low in their silver holders, but neither Garreth nor Sabine noticed, as their game continued.

Sabine brushed a stray curl from her face, a movement that caught and held Garreth's attention.

"What happened to your pitiful little wife?"

"Tis over, 'tis done," he said bitterly.

"That is no answer."

"I have no answer." He fortified his patience. "I searched for her for many months, but found no trace of her. There are those who would have me petition the king to put the marriage aside so I might remarry and beget an heir, but I am not willing until I know what happened to her."

"Poor unfortunate girl, to be married to a man who loses his wife and cannot find her."

Garreth reached across the table, took her hand, and laced his fingers through hers. "It's my turn now. Tell me, La Flamme, have you ever loved a man?"

"Yes, of course."

"Richard's father?"

"Deeply."

"Have you never loved a man save him?"

She smiled. "I once thought I was madly in love with a young man, but as you cannot recall your wife's face, I cannot remember his."

"His name?"

She withdrew her hand, remembering the day she had fallen in love with him. "I have been well brought up," she said at last, "and know one does not discuss old lovers with another man. And besides it was long ago."

He smiled ruefully. "Have you ever been married?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Everyone knows that La Flamme has no husband."

Garreth was no longer smiling. "Richard's father did not marry you?"

There was a scowl on his face, and she wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. He was now the hunted, and she was becoming the hunter in their game. Her heart felt lighter and she managed to laugh. Garreth had no notion that he was sitting at the same table with his poor, pitiful little wife. She would twist him and manipulate him without him knowing.

"Richard's father already had a wife when I met him."

There was an edge to Garreth's voice. "You must have been very young."

She found humor in baiting him by telling the truth. "Love knows no age."

Garreth was tight-lipped, and it was clear that he was no longer enjoying their game. "If I am wrong, I shall ask your pardon, but I must know. Have you any feelings for me?"

Sabine stood. "I know so little about you, Garreth."

"Dare I hope that your feelings could deepen if you came to know me?"

Sabine did not like where his questions were leading. He was forcing her to examine her inner feelings, something she was not prepared to do. "How can I answer that, when I do not know myself?"

She moved to the door, and would have opened it, but Garreth stopped her. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. She was trapped between his hard body and the wall. Her throat suddenly closed, and she could scarcely breathe.

She turned her head to follow the mouth that was so near, wanting to feel his lips on hers.

20

Garreth's lips were soft when they settled on Sabine's. Tenderly, he nestled her against his body and heat simmered inside her. His hands moved up to clasp her head, and he deepened the kiss. He held her so tightly that she could feel the muscles of his body.

Wild and wonderful feelings ripped through Sabine like a churning sea, and her lips parted as she sought more of what his kiss promised.

When he raised his head, his eyes held her captive, and she could only bury her face against his chest, feeling suddenly shy. She heard the beating of his heart—he was as moved by the kiss as she had been.

Garreth dipped his head, and once more his lips were on hers, drawing emotions from her that she didn't want to feel. It was becoming harder for her to remember that he was dangerous. She could only think that this was her husband, and how wonderful it was to be in his arms at last.

Finally he raised his head and held her at arm's length, smiling at the rosy tinge to her cheeks. "If I didn't know better," he said, "I would think you were as innocent as you pretend to be."

She said nothing, allowing him to lead her across the room, where the candles had burned low. She turned from him and moved to the window, where bright moonlight spilled into the room, lighting the darkened corners.

He came up behind her, and his hand moved up her arm.

"I should go," she said in a voice that denied her words.

His hand gently moved to her hair, and the silken strands sifted through his fingers. "Do you really want to leave?"

"
Non ... oui
—I am confused. I do not know."

He groaned and pulled her against him, and she could feel his body tremble. "What are you doing to me?" he asked in an agonized voice.

He wanted her, and her woman's heart told her that it would take very little to make Garreth Blackthorn love her.

"You want to possess my soul, you flaming-haired enchantress," he muttered, his lips gliding sensuously against her arched neck. "Indeed, it may be too late for me because I believe you already hold my heart captive."

It wasn't supposed to be like this, Sabine thought, trying to pull away from him, but he turned her toward him and his kisses drained her resistance. He was seducing her with words and with the touch of his hands and the feel of his male body.

Sabine had acted in plays where she was supposed to love a man, but she had not known that love was such an all-consuming emotion that would leave her aching and uncertain. She wanted Garreth to touch her and go on touching her. She closed her eyes when his hands slid down her throat to the hook on the front of her gown.

"I must leave," she said, her voice trembling. "This is not right." But a small voice inside her head reminded her that this man was her husband.

"Would you leave me in torment?" he asked, his mouth touching her skin each place he unfastened a hook.

Suddenly her mind cleared, and she spun away from him, attempting to regain her composure. She had been so sure that she could control him, and instead she was in danger of losing control herself. She knew nothing about the act of love between a man and a woman. But tonight was not the time to learn that lesson.

"You go too fast," she said laughing. "That which is worthwhile should be savored,
non
?”

Garreth towered over her. "The ways of the French mystify me. What would you have me do, beg for your kisses?" His hand drifted once more through her silken hair. "I'm begging," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "I know you will not believe me, but I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you. I knew the first night I saw you onstage that I would have you. If not tonight, then another time—but make no mistake, you will be mine."

Sabine leaned toward him, her hand touching his arm. "If you know anything about the French, you know that we are not easily fooled. You would have me believe that a man like you has never desired a woman before me?"

"I have desired many women, but I have never had one that muddled my reasoning to the point of madness, as you have."

She blinked her long lashes and turned back to the window, while silvery moonlight played across her face.

"I suppose I am the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?" she challenged skeptically.

"I have known some women that were as beautiful, perhaps one or two even more so," Garreth admitted, "but what I feel for you goes beyond the beauty of your face and beyond mere desire."

Sabine saw the amazed expression on his face as he realized what he'd said.

"I never thought this could happen to me," he admitted, taking her hand and placing it against his heart. "I have no words to describe what I feel for you." He shook his head as if to clear it. "The most maddening thing in all this is that I don't know how you feel about me.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, damn it, it does! For some reason, it matters a great deal."

Sabine moved her body in such a way that drew his eyes, and she purposely allowed her unfastened gown to slip off her shoulders. His breath caressed her cheek as his lips moved to her neck. She tried to remember Ysabel's warning, but it was swept from her mind as Garreth's lips nestled at the curve of her breasts. So this was what it felt like to have a man make love to you, she thought as delightful feelings engulfed her.

In the moonlight, it seemed to Garreth that La Flamme's skin was silver, while her hair gleamed as if it were spun from glistening fire.

"Garreth, this should not be happening," she whispered in a tight voice.

A tear slid down her face, and he touched his lips to it. "Of all the moments in my life that I would like to cling to and remember, I believe this is the one I would choose above all others."

How could any woman resist him? she wondered. He was ripping her heart out, and she had to free herself before it was too late.

"You are frightening me, Garreth," she whispered.

He heard the fear in her voice, and immediately released her and stepped back, dropping his arms to his sides. His breath came out raggedly. "To frighten you is the last thing I would want to do."

She buried her face in her hands, and he wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but he dared not touch her for fear he wouldn't be able to let her go again.

Garreth fought to bring his own emotions under control. When she raised her face to him and he saw confusion in her eyes, he knew she was not acting.

He was beside her in an instant, turning her into his arms. "Do not be distressed. I will make no more demands on you. It is obvious that you still love Richard's father."

She was stunned by the mention of her father, which brought her back to reality. The words she uttered next were like a knife in Garreth's heart. "Oh, yes, yes, I'll always love him."

Garreth steeled himself against the pain. "Do we still play the game of questions?" he asked.

"What? I... yes."

"Did you think of me when I was kissing you, or were you thinking of Richard's father?"

Sabine saw how unsure he was of himself, and there was no mistaking the anguish reflected in his eyes.

"No," she said at last, "I did not think of Richard's father when you kissed me."

"I don't know what's happening to me," Garreth whispered. "I tell myself that I should forget you and return to England, yet I cannot go a day without seeing you." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Tell me that you feel something for me."

Sabine threw her head back, wishing she did not feel such pain in her heart. She was betraying her father by welcoming the touch of the man who had slain him. She tried to pull away, but his lips were on hers once more, rendering her helpless.

As her father's face swam before her, she tore her lips from Garreth's. "Don't touch me!" she cried, backing away. "I don't ever want you to touch me." Sabine was unaware that she had spoken in English, with no trace of a French accent.

There was a bewildered expression on Garreth's face. "Who are you? It's almost as if you're two women. One is soft and loving, and the other . . . hard and angry— perhaps even cruel."

Sabine's hands trembled as she attempted to fasten the hooks on her gown. "You should not have brought me here."

"Do not reject me until you have given me a chance to win your love."

She buried her face in her hands and great sobs escaped her lips. "I don't want to love you."

Tenderly, he pulled her head to nestle against his broad shoulder. She had not expected such compassion from him. Somehow a feeling of peace descended on her, and she wanted to stay in his arms forever, for his hands were consoling as they glided up and down her back, not evoking passion, but soothingly as if to comfort.

"Have you suffered so much?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she replied, thinking how her life had been destroyed that terrible night her father was killed. "There are events in my life that have guided my footsteps on a path I must tread. Be warned, Garreth, that if you stay near me, my past will surely reach out and destroy you."

He raised her face up to the light. "Don't you know it's too late to warn me? Have you not guessed that I love you? If you are in danger, I will protect you and ask nothing of you in return."

She shook her head so vigorously that her auburn hair swirled out about her. "You do not have the right."

He brushed his lips gently against her tear-wet face. "Oh, but I do. I would fight the world to keep you safe. Come back to England and give me the right to protect you."

Suddenly, Sabine raised her head, staring at him. "Are you asking me to become your duchess?"

His eyes reflected sorrow. "No, I cannot do that."

There were threads of anger in her voice. "Of course not. It would never do to have an actress as the duchess of Balmarough, would it?"

He captured her chin and held her gaze. There was pain in his voice. "I don't expect you to understand how I feel, but I shall try to explain. If I were free to do so, I would not hesitate to make you my wife and hold you up with pride for all the world to see."

"You can say this while you are already married—that is your protection, is it not, Your Grace? And most convenient. How many times have you used your poor wife to keep some ambitious lover from expecting marriage from you?"

He looked stricken. "Do you think that of me?"

"Are you asking me to become your mistress?"

"Do we play the question game again?"

"
Oui
, if that is your wish."

"Then I will admit that I would take you as my mistress if that is the only way I could have you. But this is not in my control."

"Why not?"

"Because of the sad little girl that I once stood with and pledged my protection."

"Your wife?"

"Yes." His shoulders slumped. "If she is dead, the blame is mine. If she is alive, I must find her."

Sabine could not speak for a moment. She was confused. Raising her hand to her mouth, she suddenly felt sick inside. "I am not well, Your Grace. I want to go home now."

"Don't withdraw from me," Garreth pleaded.

All she wanted to do was escape. "I need time to think."

"Will you think about us?"

"
Oui
—that and other things."

Garreth took her face in both his hands and tenderly pressed his cheek to hers.

"For so many years I have been empty inside, but the moment I saw you, I came alive again. I don't know why—I cannot explain it, even to myself. I never again want to feel the loneliness."

"I do not believe you and I are suited to one another. And I shall never be any man's mistress."

"Even if that is so, I still want to be near you. For all your renown you are not happy. I want to take care of you and Richard."

He drew her tightly against him, and they stood there for a long time. Oh, how she gloried in the feel of him, and it terrified her. She tried to remember that he was devious and manipulative, and she must not trust him.

"I am capable of taking care of Richard." Her voice was suddenly without warmth. "I have done so most of his life."

"But he has no father."

She pulled away. "No, his father is dead, and no one will ever take his place. Never again imply that you want me for your mistress."

He stepped away from her. "At this time, I can offer you nothing more."

She turned her back on him. "I want nothing from you, Garreth, but one thing. And one day you will know what that one thing is."

He let out an exasperated breath. "Tell me now—why do you keep me waiting?"

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Know this, Monsieur le due, I will be no man's whore." Before she lost her nerve she moved quickly toward the door. "I must leave. I shall ask your coachman to take me home."

He moved toward her—she was pale and did not look well. "I will accompany you."

"I would rather go alone."