She shook her head and began to lie. “I was considered too small and thin to be very attractive. But even if I was as round and luscious as the females my master preferred—well, even the greatest rake in any realm would never have enough time to pay adequate attention to so many women!” Her expression changed to a smile of wicked satisfaction. “Believe me, my friends, a single husband who lives under the same roof and is interested is much more valuable to a woman!”
That had produced boisterous giggles and stories of honeymoons and husbands and lovers that deflected attention from Suzanne. She didn’t mention that the most vital skill she’d learned in the harem was to lie superbly. The reality of her life there was not a subject for superficial entertainment.
She was relieved that no one had called her a whore to her face, though there were women in the room like the Comtesse de Chaurry who had done so in the past. Tonight they avoided Suzanne, but they didn’t openly insult her.
Occasionally she and Simon exchanged glances so she could silently assure him that she was all right. He seemed to be moving easily among the gentlemen, talking and listening and learning their opinions.
The hour was getting late when someone stepped on Suzanne’s hem and pulled a ribbon trim loose. Ready for a break from the conversation, she excused herself and headed upstairs to the ladies’ retiring room. A solicitous lady’s maid pinned the ribbon back in place and patted lavender water on her temples.
For a few minutes, Suzanne relaxed with her feet on a brocade footstool, glad she didn’t have to talk. When she was ready to return to the fray, she stood and smoothed out her gown. The mirror showed that she looked well tonight, as elegant and calm as a countess should be. But being constantly on guard made this visit with her countrymen tiring. She would see if Simon was ready to leave.
The retiring room was a floor above the drawing room and at the back of the house, so she had to walk the length of a corridor and around a corner to reach the stairs. Sconces gave soft light, illuminating occasional pieces of elegant French furniture. She stopped to admire an elaborate table at the turn in the corridor, thinking that the de Chaurrys must have escaped France with a shipload of furnishings.
“So there’s the harem whore.” The harsh, slurred voice jolted Suzanne and she spun around to see a male guest. She came sharply alert. Morlaix, his name was. When she’d visited the émigrés on her arrival in London, he’d been one of the men who had tried to corner her. She’d escaped when two servant girls came chattering along the corridor.
This time there was no one else around and he seemed broad and hulking and very drunk. Hoping to brazen this out, she raised her chin and said in her coolest countess voice, “There are no whores in harems, monsieur. Only bored women with too much time on their hands.”
“No need to be bored now, your ladyship,” he leered as he closed in on her. “I’ve wondered what harem whores do to please men.” With a sudden lunge, he grabbed her arms. “I’ve heard they can drive a man out of his mind.” He tried to shove her downward with one hand on her shoulder while the other hand fumbled with the fall of his trousers.
For an instant she was paralyzed by shock and fear.Submit or he’ll hurt you. Maybe even kill you.You’re powerless, you must obey. . . .
NO!Rage shattered her paralysis. She was no longer a submissive female who feared for her life and had no choice but to obey. She was the wife of a warrior, and he’d taught her how to fight back.
While Morlaix was struggling to unbutton his fall, she jerked her knee upward with furious strength. He wasn’t expecting resistance, and her knee smashed dead center into his most vulnerable organs. He howled with agony and jackknifed forward, bringing his throat within easy reach. Suzanne chopped down with the side of her hand, hitting so hard that her hand hurt.
Morlaix gave an agonized squawk and collapsed on the expensive carpet. Burning with rage at every man who had ever hurt or bullied her, Suzanne drew her foot back and kicked him in the belly as hard as she could. Her toes hurt and she wished she’d been wearing her riding boots.
Not caring that her toes hurt, she kicked him again and was preparing to do so once more when strong arms came around her, holding her still. “Enough,ma chérie.” Simon’s deep voice was in her ear, soothing. “You have dealt with him well, but you don’t want to kill him. The authorities would be awkward about that.”
She turned and clung to him, shaking. “He wanted to . . . to . . .”
“I know.” He patted her back. “Can you stand on your own?”
She nodded. Simon released her and turned to Morlaix. Effortlessly he raised the larger man and slammed him hard against the wall. “Do not ever,ever,trouble my wife again,” he said in a lethal voice as he stood eye to eye with Morlaix. “If she doesn’t kill you, I will. Am I clear?”
Morlaix was still gasping for breath and his gaze was murderous, but he mumbled some kind of assent.
“See that you remember.” Simon released his hold and Morlaix collapsed to the floor like a pile of groaning laundry.
As Simon put his arm around Suzanne, she realized other guests had joined them, drawn by Morlaix’s cries. One was de Chaurry. The comte drew an unsteady breath as he stared at his guest. The open fall of the man’s trousers told the story. “I’m sorry this happened under my roof, Colonel, madam.”
The onlookers included several women. One of the younger ones came forward and kicked Morlaix in the ribs, hard, as she swore under her breath. Another followed and spat on him, saying, “Thank you, Madame Duval.” Both women turned on their heels and marched down the stairs.
“I’m guessing that Morlaix has made a habit of assaulting young women,” Simon said coolly. “A very bad habit.” He scooped Suzanne up in his arms. “It’s time I took my wife home. Thank you for a generally very pleasant evening, Monsieur le Comte.”
He carried Suzanne down the staircase as other guests drew back. She could have managed on her own, but Simon’s protective arms felt too good to forego. His warmth, his strength, his kindness. She murmured into his shoulder, “I’m glad you gave me the lessons in defending myself.”
“And I’m glad you learned them so well!” At the front door Simon set her on her feet while the butler brought their cloaks and summoned their carriage.
Suzanne was glad to get away. But Morlaix’s assault had started her mind spinning in new directions.
Chapter 15
Once they were in their carriage and heading for home, Simon pulled Suzanne onto his lap and held her close again. “The women present almost broke into applause for what you did to Morlaix.”
“I would like to think his behavior would get him banned from the houses of his acquaintances, but I’m sure it won’t.” Her mouth tightened. “And to think he considers himself a gentleman! That vilecochon!”
“He is an insult to pigs. Should I challenge him to a duel?” Simon offered. “That’s a gentlemanly solution, and the world would be a better place without him.”
