“What are you saying?” Isabeau catches my hips in her hands and holds me still before I can reach my door.
“I am saying that I had one lover who left me cold, and that I want you to ... do what he couldn’t.” My cheeks are on fire, but I pull off my mask so she can see my face. “I leave to rejoin my family in the morning. I have tonight to audition for the role of mistress to the duke.”
“Come nightfall, I am insensible. The curse ... I cannot stay awake when the sun sets.”
I glance at the sky. Tempted as I am to see whether she really is unconscious with the setting of the sun, today is not that day. I think back to whatever tonic she drank with the queen. There’s no love between Morag and the dowager duchess, but both women love Isabeau. Could they be working together to keep Isabeau from misbehaving at night? Is this “curse” simply an elaborate ruse because of her debauchery? I have questions I should pursue, but I also have a beautiful woman who wants to be in my arms.
I speak none of my questions.
“The sun is still high in the sky,” I point out. “That gives us several hours, Isabeau. Come into my home with me.”
“I want more than this,” Isabeau says. “I want to unwrap you, love. I wantyou, but ... you’re breaking my heart. I want this to be our reunion, not merely a tryst.”
“Isa . . .”
“Please?” Standing in front of my house, Isabeau drops to her knees, still holding my hips in her hands. “You are everything I’m seeking, and you have given me no reason that we cannot be more. Let me court you. Let me marry you, love.”
“You would give up tonight whenI am asking youto seduce me?” I bend down and kiss her, right there on the path outside my home. No mask on my face, no sense in my mind, I am dizzy with impatience. “The world is crushing me, and I want you to make me feel alive, Isabeau. No one else can. Only you.”
She swallows, and I see her resolve wavering.
“I will hear your offer once I can,” I promise. “I miss the way we talked and ... I want to hear your explanations of the night sky, and tell you about my reading, and dance with you. I want to eat tarts that we steal from the kitchen and—”
My words end with a yip as Isabeau stands and kisses me.
Chapter 19
“In the district of Vannes is encountered a colossal spirit called Teus or Bugelnoz, who appears clothed in white between midnight and two in the morning. His office is to rescue victims from the devil, and should he spread his mouth over them they are secure from the Father of Evil.”
—Legends and Romances of Brittanyby Lewis Spence [1917]
I realize as I stumble through the front door of my home that the drink I took at the Chathams’ party was stronger than any wine I’ve sipped. My sense of order is missing, and I panic briefly. But inebriated or sober, I want Isabeau. I think I have wanted her as long as I have known her. My hand grips hers, and I pull her into my foyer.
Inside, Clarissa dips into a curtsy. “The house is empty, m’lady. I must run out for darning needles.” She sends a saucy smile at me and darts away.
“Darning needles?” Isabeau echoes.
I giggle. The excuse is ludicrous, but I’m grateful for it. “You are alone with me.Thatwas what she said, Isa. If you intend to compromise me, now is the time.”
I stare at her, pleased and a little shocked by my own audacity. I can see why so many people enjoy alcohol. The liquor in the glass earliersings in my body like it has burned away all my common sense and most of my fears.
Isabeau stares back at me oddly.
So I lean in and kiss the bottom of her chin. “Catch me, Your Grace, and you can have your kiss.”
Then I hike up my skirt into a bundle in my arms and run upstairs.
Isabeau follows me with a sort of familiar laughter that makes me think of running through the castle in our childhood and a sort of joy that I think I want to keep. She might be a cursed duke, a rakish woman, a moody person, but she’s also joy made flesh. I trust her. I always have.
She runs after me, longer legs making short work of my escape. When she catches up, she puts a hand on either side of me, crowding me against the wall. “I believe I was promised kisses, love.”
“So kiss me.”
“You owe me the kisses. Ante up.” There’s a vulnerable edge in her voice that’s always been there, as if she isn’t sure she can ask for affection. I want to erase it. I want her to understand that she is amazing to me.
I stare at her, and a part of me wants to burn the memory of every other woman from her mind. “First ... remove the jacket ... and the cravat.”
Slowly, she does as I demand.
