“Simple observation,” Simone said, quite matter-of-factly. “When first you approached me, you stumbled on your feet and your tunic looked as though it had been used to clean a privy.” She bowed her nose to touch his chest and sniffed. “You smell of cheap woman and drink. What else am I to assume but that you are a penniless womanizer?”
She must have mistook the choked sound Nick made for a different emotion, for she placed a silencing finger across his lips and continued.
“Be not shamed,mon cher,” she whispered. “I care not for your wealth.”
Nick shook his head to rid himself of her pitying touch. Was he not good enough for any woman? First Evelyn, and now this pixie of a girl thought him unworthy? Mayhap his costume was a bit bedraggled from his earlier festivities, but God’s teeth! Cecil Halbrook was one of Nick’s own underlords and he could buy the old codger a hundred times over.
“’Tis well then, my lady,” he growled. “For on this night, I will leave you with such memories that even all the king’s riches could never erase me from your mind.”
He seized her again, this time roughly, grabbing her upper arms in viselike fists and dragging her against him. Simone’s head reeled from his assault on her mouth. There was not a spot within that remained untouched by his hot tongue, and when he pushed her back against the railing, his hands roaming her body freely, she could not stifle her groan.
It was so very exciting! Sensations flooded Simone beyond her expectations—her legs were heavy and weak, and a warm ache began to wind in her midsection. Charles had kissed her before, even touched her leg on occasion, but not like this.
Never like this.
“Simone!” The whisper hissed directly in her ear—Didier’s voice—but Simone only squeezed her eyes more tightly shut and willed him to disappear.
“Sister!” Didier implored. “You must listen to me!”
“Not now,” Simone groaned against the baron’s lips.
Nicholas raised his head slightly. “Of course,” he breathed, his gaze devouring her face. “I will take you to my private rooms.”
Simone shook her head and pulled his lips back to hers.
“Sister—”
“Go away,” she mumbled.
“What say you, Lady du Roche?” Nicholas demanded, his voice ragged. He made as if to draw away from her. “Would you now refuse me after leading me on your merry chase?”
Simone made a small mewing sound in her throat and pulled the baron’s hand beneath the cloak. “Nay, my lord. I—”
“Papa is coming!” Didier shrieked.
The double doors to the balcony burst outward and Armand du Roche stepped through, Lord Halbrook close on his heels.
The blond man from the ball and his wife also appeared, the red-haired woman looking decidedly worried. Her husband, however, seemed not at all surprised.
“Simone!” Armand hissed, causing her to realize she was still pressed intimately against the Baron of Crane. She started, pushing away from Nicholas and frantically straightening her gown. She shrugged out of the borrowed cloak and shoved it at its owner.
“Papa, I—”
“Non!” Armand shouted. The right side of his face spasmed beneath his age-whitened scar, and his right arm was drawn against his side. He continued his rebuke in rapid-fire French. “No excuses! You were to remain in the hall and yet, the instant I am gone, you abscond with this…this”—he sneered in the baron’s direction, spittle flying from his lips—“rogueto play the harlot!”
Simone dropped her eyes to the flagstones beneath her slippers, a hot sweep of embarrassment burning her ears. “I am sorry, Papa.”
“Andyou!” Armand switched to English as he addressed Nicholas. “You should be whipped for assaulting a lady in such a manner!”
“I do beg pardon, Lord du Roche,” Nicholas said easily, donning his cloak and fastening it with care. “But perhaps you should know ’twas your daughter who propositioned me.”
Simone gasped and whirled to face him. “Liar! You lured me here!”
“Ha! I had to run to keep up with you!”
The red-haired woman turned to her husband. “Can you not do something?”
The man shook his head and chuckled. “Ah, Nick. So you strike again.”
