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Short liaisons, as sweet as they were brief, had always been enough for him before. What more did he want from Honoria? What more could he have? She could not become his lover, even if she would consent. No, she was the sort of woman who would insist he marry her.
For once the idea of matrimony did not annoy him. He allowed himself to briefly consider marriage to Honoria. Her body would belong to him. Her smiles, her laughs, her scowls would all be his. She was a remarkable woman, as brave as she was intelligent. In another world, marriage might have been possible. But not in this world. Not in a Paris whose streets ran with blood and whose citizens paraded severed heads through the streets.
Marriage, family, even love had no place in this world. And he could not allow himself to imagine otherwise.
He heard a sound behind him and tensed as he realized Honoria was awake and emerging from the bedchamber.
“You should have woken me,” she said, her voice husky from sleep.Mon Dieu,was every moment with her to be a torment of unfulfilled desire?
He turned and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her eyes were hooded from sleep, her cheeks pink, and though she had donned her chemise, she hadn’t bothered with the rest of her clothing. The thinness of the linen meant he did not have to use his imagination to picture her lush hips or rounded breasts.
Laurent turned back to the window. “You need to rest.”
“As do you.” She moved beside him, still out of sight of anyone outside the window. “Why don’t you rest, and I shall keep watch?”
He was tired, but he would not sleep if she sent him to the bedchamber. Her scent was on the pillow and the sheets, and he would only want her more.
“I can’t sleep right now,” he said, keeping his eyes on the Temple.
“Very well. We shall keep watch together.” She moved behind him and wrapped her arms around him. It was a gesture of affection and one he wanted to welcome, but one to which he could not allow himself to succumb. Hating his own weakness, he took her hands and unclasped them, then moved out of her arms. He caught the flash of pain on her face before she smoothed it over.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice formal.
“I don’t want distractions at the moment,” he said, sounding exactly like a pompous noble whose head should be chopped off.
“Of course.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “In that case, perhaps it is best if I look over your notes. I may be able to add to them.”
“If you like.” He didn’t look at her. He could not bear the temptation. Already he wondered how he would ever let her go when he finally rescued the princess and the dauphin. He would have to take the children to safety in Austria. There was no place in that plan for Honoria. Even if she wanted to accompany them, he could not allow it. She’d already risked her life one time too many. Better to keep some distance between them.
If only he’d anticipated the way their lovemaking would affect him, but how could he have known she would make him want her even more?
“If you’ll excuse me,” she said. “It’s colder in here than I expected.” She withdrew to the bedchamber, probably to dress. He hadn’t missed her double meaning, and he welcomed her anger. If she was angry with him, it would make parting that much easier.
She returned at the changing of the guard, and she was dressed in the same garments she’d worn earlier. He tried not to remember his hands on her skin as he’d unpinned the fabric, revealing her silky skin. He tried not to picture his mouth on her dusky nipples as she arched in pleasure.
With a sigh of annoyance, he sat at the table and noted the time and the appearance of the new guard. It was the same man as the day before, and the change had occurred at the same time.
“Would you like tea?” Honoria asked.
“I’m busy right now,” he snapped, scratching the quill across the parchment.
“Forgive me. It’s late, and I thought you might like refreshment. I’ll leave you to your work.” The ice in her words finally cut through to him, and he stood.
“Honoria.”
Her back was to him as she prepared the tea. She held up a hand to stay him. “I can see I am an unwanted nuisance. I suppose now that you’ve had me in your bed, you want nothing more to do with me. I’m only angry I am such a fool as to have believed it might ever mean anything more than that.”
“Honoria.”
“Oh, stubble it,” she said in English. “I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to apologize or explain. It makes sense, I suppose.” She turned, seeming to give up on the tea she’d been attempting to brew. “Once you have the princess, we will have to part. You think taking me to bed a mistake. We’ve made that parting more difficult.”
She did understand, more than he’d expected. “I don’t want to be cruel.”
“No, please, go on with it. Hating you is preferable to loving you.”
He staggered, but caught himself with a hand on the table.Loving him? She’d spoken in English, so perhaps he’d translated wrong.
But he knew he hadn’t. His English was heavily accented, but he could understand it perfectly. She’d admitted she loved him. No woman had ever told him she loved him—well, not said it and meant it. What was there to love about him? He was the dissolute son of a noble who had been disloyal to King Louis XV. It was only Louis XVI’s weakness that had permitted Laurent back into the court of Versailles when everyone knew his father had taken the side of Britain during the Seven Years’ War. That he had spent several months in the Temple and left disgraced.
