“Eightships? That’s a great many.”
“They would have taken the lot if I hadn’t seen this coming and sent most of the Andreas fleet to Charleston harbor two years ago.”
“You knew they would steal your ships?”
He nodded grimly. “Oh, yes, at the first opportunity or excuse. The majority of the illustrious members of the assembly are as corrupt as the nobles of the court they supplanted. The only way to deal with them is by bribery and evasion.”
She shivered. “The world seems filled with thieves and murderers. François tried to tell me why the abbey had been attacked but I couldn’t understand it. I’ll never understand it.”
“It was madness. How can anyone understand madness?” His gaze met her own. “As God is my witness, I never suspected the abbey would be attacked, Juliette. I sent Philippe to fetch you both to Vasaro merely as a precaution because of the unrest in Paris. If I’d thought there was any real danger, I would have come myself.” His lips twisted. “You’re right, I was stupid.”
The pain and the bitter denunciation in his tone hurt her in some odd way, and she said quickly, “Maybe you weren’t completely at fault.”
“Are you softening?” He shook his head. “The blame was mine and you had the right to condemn me.” He reached out and wound his forefinger in one of the tight curls at her left temple. “You have much too tender a heart beneath all those thorns, you know.”
The tip of his finger was resting lightly against her cheekbone while he lazily tested the silky texture of the curl between his thumb and forefinger. The action was almost unbearably intimate. She swallowed. “Nonsense.”
“But you must never show that softness. Not to me.” His gaze was mesmerizingly intent as it held hers. “It’s dangerous for you. Never let me see a weakness, Juliette.”
“I don’t…understand what you’re saying.”
“I know you don’t.” He smiled cynically. He released the curl and it instantly sprang back into its former tight ringlet. “And only God knows why I’m saying it. It must be a combination of guilt and shock that has me behaving with such uncharacteristic gallantry. I guarantee after I’ve slept a while I’ll be fully myself again and you’ll find me a fit antagonist.”
“Antagonist?” Juliette frowned at him. “I don’t wish to fight you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said softly. “You’ve fought me from the beginning. It’s all part of the game.”
“Game?”
He turned away and moved toward the door. “Not now.”
He had said those words before, she remembered vaguely. Not now. Someday. “I don’t understand a tenth of what you’re saying. You’re being most exasperating.” She took a hasty step forward as she saw him open the door. “And you can’t leave now. I’ll find you something to eat and then we must speak of Catherine.”
“I have no intention of discussing Catherine or anything else at the moment. I’m too weary either too eat or think right now,” Jean Marc said firmly as he moved toward the door. “Since I left Toulon I’ve been riding day and night and I’m sure half the dirt of the road is still clinging to my person. I intend to wash and then sleep for the next dozen hours.”
“A dozen hours?You can’t! We need to discuss what’s to be done about Catherine.”
“My dear Juliette.” His caressing tone failed to hide its steely determination. “It’s just as well you learn immediately that I do exactly as I wish and I abhor the wordcan’t.”
She could understand that, Juliette thought grudgingly. She had a dislike for the word herself. “As I do, but if you’d—”
“Tomorrow.Bonne nuit, Juliette.” The door closed softly behind him.
Juliette gazed at the door in astonishment, tempted to go after him and make him listen to her. Then she slowly turned, got into bed, and pulled the covers back over her. She had forgotten how obstinate the man could be. She knew Jean Marc could not be forced to do anything and quite possibly would do the exact opposite if she pushed him too far.
She turned on her side, a tiny pinwheel of excitement spiraling through her. He was here! Beautiful, glittering, and as darkly enigmatic as she remembered him. Even as she had been railing at him she had been drinking in the unusual molding of his cheekbones, trying to probe the secrets behind his glittering black eyes. She had wanted to reach out and touch the hard plane of his cheek, the corded muscles of his thighs.
Touch? She quickly rejected the thought and then brought it back to examine it more closely. Perhaps she had wanted to explore his body, but surely it had been only an artist’s curiosity regarding physique.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. Yes, it wasn’t excitement she was feeling at all, merely the curiosity of the artist who had rediscovered a fascinating challenge and relief for the help Jean Marc’s arrival could offer Catherine.
Jean Marc’s hands slowly clenched into fists as he stood looking down at Catherine. Why was he here? He should have gone straight to bed as he had told Juliettehe would. He certainly didn’t intend to wake Catherine and face her silent accusations.
No, Catherine would never rail, accusing him of negligence. She was gentle, as his father had been gentle. Like him, she would suffer and be destroyed before uttering a word of blame.
Yet the blame had been Jean Marc’s and he did know why he was here. He had wanted reassurance that Catherine had not been destroyed by his carelessness and he was not receiving that reassurance. Catherine was enveloped in a pale fragility in cruel contrast to Juliette’s vibrant vitality.
Juliette.
