He flipped her over on the carpet and she saw hisexpression for the first time. Torment, pleasure, frustration, resignation.
He thrust hard, again, then a flurry of heated power.
She cried out, her fingernails digging into the carpet, not caring whether Simon’s men heard her or not.
He crushed her to him, burying his face in her shoulder while the spasms of release shuddered through both of them.
“Why?” Jean Marc’s voice was low as he adjusted his clothing and then moved to help her with the fastening of her gown. “Why did you say yes?”
“I don’t know.” Juliette didn’t look at him. “It seemed a good idea at the time.”
“To let me treat you like a tart I’d picked up on the docks of Marseilles?” Jean Marc’s tone was suddenly savage.
“Is that how they’re treated? It must not be such a terrible life. I really found it quite exhilarating.”
Jean Marc put his fingers beneath her chin and turned her face up to look in her eyes. “Why?”
“Because you were kind to me in Andorra,” she said simply. “And kindness should be returned. I wasn’t sure at first why you needed to do this but I knew the need was there.”
His expression was suddenly wary. “But you think you know now?”
“You were losing sight of the woman you were fighting and seeing me as myself.” She gazed up at the woman in the picture. “You wanted to see me as the enemy again. You thought you might be able to do that here.” Her gaze shifted to his face. “But you were wrong, weren’t you? You found you couldn’t see me in that way any longer.”
“Yes.” He released her chin and his hands dropped away from her. “Yes, I was wrong. It didn’t work.”
She rose to her feet. “You don’t like me to understand you, do you?” She smoothed her curls withtrembling hands. “I don’t like it either. It disturbs me.Youdisturb me. I find myself thinking about you when I should be thinking of my work. I will no longer let you do this to me, Jean Marc.”
“No?” His gaze narrowed on her face. “And what will you do to prevent it?”
“Once we’re back in Paris there’s no reason for us to have…a close association. We shall follow our own paths.” She met his gaze. “And I shall no longer let you have my body. There will be no child and you will not be allowed in my bed.”
“You intend to occupy my house but not my bed?”
“That was our agreement. The shelter of your house and protection as long as I wanted it and two million livres for the Wind Dancer. You have the Wind Dancer. As soon as we return to Paris I’ll go to the Café du Chat and give them the money. I’m sure they can arrange for your writ of sale from Marie Antoinette. Then you can attend to your business and I’ll attend to mine.”
“Painting?”
Her lashes quickly lowered to veil her eyes. “Yes.”
“And we’re to live together, pure of all carnal thought?” He shook his head and the wicked smile she knew so well lit his face. “It won’t do, Juliette. Your temperament is too hot and the desire between us too strong. You’ll yield before a week has gone by.”
“No. And you won’t attempt me, for to do so would sever our bargain.”
“We shall just have to test the strength of your resolve.” Jean Marc stood up and moved toward the desk. “I gave you a choice once. I’ll not do so again.” His voice was almost casual as he added, “I believe we shall wed in time.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Wed?”
“As you pointed out, the child must have the Andreas name.” He smiled. “And I fully intend to get you with child, Juliette. I’ve just come to that decision.”
“But I told you I have no intention—” She moved toward the door. “You’re quite mad.”
“You give me no choice. It may be the only way I can win the game.”
She unlocked the door.
“Juliette.”
She glanced back at him.
