Before she knew it, he had pulled her back into the leafy bower. His eyes looked grave, the teasing smile gone from his lips. “I’m sorry. But this is not London, Henrietta. Forgive me?”
“I don’t believe I care to.” Why did he have to be so attractive? Were all rakes so?
He sighed and shook his head. “I wanted to wait until we returned to England. Hasty decisions made now are not always wise. You should enjoy the exciting life promised you before you marry. But heaven help me, I love you to distraction. It’s selfishly of me, but I want you to be mine.” He sank down on one knee on the carpet of flowers. “Marry me?”
Henrietta gasped. She put her hands on her hot cheeks. “You love me?”
He stood. “Have I not proven my love by coming to find you?”
She tilted her head. “You came to France for an entirely different reason, not that you’ll tell me what that is.”
His mouth twitched, and a gleam lit his eyes, as he stood and brushed his soiled knees. “You drove a trap past me through the barricade with Mademoiselle Verity. I returned to Paris because of you.”
“You were there?”
“Yes. And quite a shock you gave me.”
With a gurgle of delight Henrietta leapt into his arms. He swung her off her feet, his lips seeking hers and kissed her thoroughly. She thrilled at the touch of his mouth on hers and never wanted him to stop.
“I was lost from the first moment I saw you on that balcony,” he said when they finally drew apart. “Heaven help me, it was all I could do not to climb up to you.”
She laughed. “Of course, I’ll marry you, darling Christian.” How bittersweet it was. To have found love but not be sure, they would have a future together.
“We must enjoy what we have right now,” she said.
She leaned down and brushed a flower from his thigh. “You have ruined your clothes.”
He caught her hand. “Not my best attire, I’m afraid.”
“You would look handsome in any clothes.”
“You will look delicious without them.” With skillful fingers, he traced a line down to the hollow at the base of her throat.
She held her breath. Would he touch the rise of her breasts above her bodice? She desperately wanted him to. Her ordered life in England with all its rules seemed far away. They inhabited a very different world. The garish green gown came from the theatre, a world free of society’s strictures. What if she died before she and Christian could be together?
She placed his broad palm against her bosom. “Make love to me.”
He pulled his hand away as if stung. “I will make love to you, sweetheart. When it’s right. Not under these conditions.”
“Why not now? Who knows what the future will bring?” She took hold of his lapel. Stared up into his concerned gray-blue eyes. “I don’t want to die without experiencing love.”
He traced her bottom lip with a finger. Shook his head with regret. “It would be a brief affair, my love. Your father would slice me in two before the day was out.”
“He doesn’t have to know.” Her sweeping arm took in their surroundings, the flowering fruit trees, the green fields dotted with ruby flowers, the clear, slate blue sky. She clutched his waistcoat. “Christian, what better place to share our love?”
“Have a care, Henrietta! It’s not so easy for me to resist you.” He unraveled her fingers from his coat and backed away with a nervous laugh. “A better place would be the marriage bed, for a lady I greatly respect. Now please come inside with me. I have important work to do.”
He wasn’t rakish at all. Henrietta shrugged. “You have no romance in your soul. I’m not sure I will marry you.”
He caught her up again. Kissed her until she was limp. There was a smile in his eyes when he released her. “I don’t?”
“Perhaps a little.” She raised her face for another kiss.
They drew apart reluctantly and walked arm in arm to the house. With a loving glance they joined the others gathered in the parlor where François was holding court.
Henrietta had almost forgotten the fierce indignation she experienced at what she saw as François’ betrayal. Were those men chouans? Or did François intend to betray them to the revolutionary army, or the sans culottes, the violent peasants who killed indiscriminately?
François talked about what he envisaged was France’s future. He revealed no sorrow for the loss of his brother, or concern for Verity’s feelings. She didn’t like him and wished she knew what motivated him.
Verity would help her.
With that thought, any distrust for the actress fell away. By bringing Christian to them, and revealing the truth to her father, Verity had proved herself to be a trusted friend. The pistol that Henrietta had discovered aboard the marquess’ boat had distracted her from the significance of the empty laudanum bottle. It was possible Verity had drugged the marquess to save them both from his advances. One day she would ask her. But not now.
She had trusted François when they first came here but no longer. If the fortune teller, was to be believed, then he must be the one. She dismissed Christian’s demand for her to leave it all to the men. Let them plan and execute their escape while she discovered more about François. She’d wait for a chance to search the library where he spent most of his time. A room no one was permitted to enter.
