He took her silence as agreement and flicked his tongue over his full pink bottom lip. “The first time is seldom the best. Given time, I will introduce you to such delights you will thank me.”
He was so arrogant and confident of his abilities it sickened her, but it also gave her hope she might outsmart him in this cat-and-mouse game. “And I promise to thank you after you persuade theComité de Sûreté Généraleto release my father from imprisonment. I know your word carries enormous weight, citizen.” Verity attempted a smile of admiration. He was her last chance. She had again begged her father’s jailer, Georges Danton, for leniency, to no avail. Instead, he had given her a disturbing ultimatum.
Jacques wasn’t listening. He reached out and grabbed her, fast as a snake, pulling her roughly against him. “You will not leave here tonight without giving me something on account, however.”
He was strong for a short man. Verity gasped and tried to back away. “I am a good actress. How can you be sure I will not act out my pleasure with you?”
He paused. “You may the first time. But only the first time.”
“There won’t be a second, Jacques.”
He raised a brow. “Non?”
Danton’s orders had sent her plummeting into a spiral of despair, but she almost enjoyed telling Jacques. “Danton sends me to London to join an acting troupe. I leave tomorrow.”
She’d succeeded in surprising him. He dropped his hands from her waist. “Why would he do that?”
“He wishes me to perform a seduction of my own. I must entice a man back to France.”
“Who is this man?”
“Viscount Beaumont.”
He frowned in puzzlement. “An Englishman?”
“Beaumont married into French aristocracy. I know nothing more.”
Jacques gave a seductive smile. “Then we’d best not waste the few hours left to us.”
“I hoped you would intervene on my account. You must act now, tonight. Give me a letter. If I can get Robespierre onside, I can remain in Paris.” She forced a smile. “And then you can spend more time with me.”
He shook his head. “My dear Verity, as attractive as that sounds, if I were to comply, my dear wife would hear of it.” He gestured around the luxurious room. “Her family’s money provides all this. She allows me only so much rope.”
Cold rage and despair flooded her veins. “You never intended to help me!” She spun away from him to snatch up her cape, but Jacques was faster. He dragged her struggling into the bedchamber and pushed her onto the bed.
“You are to seduce Lord Beaumont?” He leaned over her, tugging at his cravat. “Not a role for an innocent. You need to learn some technique,ma chère. And I am just the man to teach you.”
She shoved him away. “But I do not wish to be taught by such as you!” He drew back his arm and slapped her hard across the face. Bright lights flashed across her vision.
Verity drew in a ragged breath. “Demon!”
“Do not play games with me.” He removed his coat as she lay gasping on the bed, dizzy from his blow. Stepping closer, he stroked her stinging cheek with a finger.
“Do not worry, little one. If you don’t struggle I promise to be kind.”
She glared at him and silently cursed. Her reticule with the pistol was on the table in the other room. “We had an agreement. I trusted you to keep it.”
“Foolish of you,” he said coolly.
Nothing she said penetrated his arrogant assumption that he could take whatever he wished. She wanted to avert her eyes as he undressed, but fear kept her gaze fixed upon him as he stripped his shirt from his broad chest with its thick mat of graying dark hair. His pantaloons followed. Already, he was aroused. “See what our little disagreement has done to me.” He gave a guttural laugh and strutted around the bed.
Sick with fear, she swallowed bile and pressed her back against the bedpost, her eyes darting around for a way of escape. He stood between her and the door. A woman’s screams no longer brought help from any quarter. Determination in his hard gaze, he kneeled over her on the bed, his hot breath on her neck, as he pulled away the fichu to expose her breasts rising with each frantic breath. She reached behind her, and her fingers found the cold porcelain of an antique vase, on a table beside the bed.
She grasped it with her right hand and smashed it down on his head.
With a moan, Jacques fell on top of her.
She struggled to push him away. “Idiot!”
Unconscious, but he breathed well enough. She didn’t want his death bringing the authorities down on her head. It was a shame about the vase though.
Relieved she didn’t have to shoot him, she fled the bedchamber, snatching up her cloak and her reticule on the way out. She realized she had made a powerful enemy, perhaps it was just as well that she was leaving France at first light.
She hauled the hood of her cloak down over her face and ran down the stairs, hoping desperately that the driver had waited. Once in the street, her galloping pulse slowed. The carriage was there. She climbed in and crumpled against the squabs, blowing away an errant lock of hair with a puffed breath, annoyed and dismayed by her poor handling of this affair. Her temper always got her into trouble! Might she not have charmed the fellow around to her way of thinking? “Au nom de Dieu!” She shuddered, doubting it. Jacques would not have been stopped any other way. Even if she’d given in, she doubted he would have helped her. She must shrug off this failure and not lose her focus. Her father’s life depended on it.
Lord Beaumont would be another obstacle, which she hoped she could manage with more aplomb. It would be a test of her acting skills, she had a hearty dislike of all men except for her father. They only wanted one thing from her. She’d promised her father not to become like other actresses, free with her favors. But if she had to break her promise to entice this lord back with her to Paris, then she would. It would take careful planning.
