Unbreak My Heart

CHAPTER ONE-Paris, 1692

Dear Lord, it was he; the man who stole her innocence. Angelise blinked to be sure she truly saw him. Poised at the top of the three stairs that dropped into the ballroom;-he was magnificent.

He had matured, or at least his shoulders were broader. Had it been two years? His black hair curled as it fell to his shoulders, his thick black lashes framed light golden eyes. The narrow hips and muscular legs were snugly encased by fawn trousers, indecently snug trousers. His chestnut jacket was offset by crisp white ruffles at his cuffs and throat. The sensuous mouth was but waiting to smile, its corners curled upward as he surveyed the room. His sun-darkened skin belied the stylish clothes, the short sword at his side only now discarded with his cape.

Angelise’s very skin felt hot. How often had she seen him in her dreams since that afternoon; his strong hands on her shoulders, moving to tangle in her hair. His mouth on hers, then lowering to kiss her breasts. They tightened now at the thought, the tips straining against her bodice.

Her eyes traveled the length of him, imaging the strength of his legs against hers, seeing again the bronze chest naked to the waist. Her lips parted as she lingered on his mouth and then met his eyes with a shock. He was looking directly at her and now his lips curled in a crooked smile, flashing white teeth against the swarthy skin.

An amused voice cut into her awareness. Cousin, I realize this is your first society ball, but I don’t think it proper to undress a man with your gaze-not even that one. Pierre, one of the twins, turned her toward him as he spoke. That’s Andre DuBois, the old count’s only son and heir. He’s not fit escort for a young lady. His reputation as a rake is well deserved.

Angelise almost stammered in her embarassment. I-I thought I knew him. I think I’ve seen him before-several years ago, near Grandmere’s lake.

That’s possible. The DuBois property adjoins your grandmother’s although I don’t think Andre is home very much. Anyway, stay away from him. We grew up with him and he’s a self-centered, well, just stay away from him. Come, dance with me.

Her feet followed the much practiced steps. A tiny frown appeared as she concentrated on not treading upon her cousin’s toes.

Am I so poor a partner? Pierre bent to whisper into her ear. Your thoughts seem far away.

Angelise’s large grey eyes opened wide as they met his and she laughed. Ah, no, but I still must think what to do. Will I ever just dance, do you think?

It will happen; with the right partner, the right time. You worry too much. Those young gentlemen are quite taken with you. Their thoughts aren’t on your dancing. He nodded toward two young gallants, both watching her from the edge of the floor. Smile.

Andre DuBois was undecided; should he ask her to dance?. As a rule he preferred older women. Something about this girl provoked him, some hidden memory. Where had he seen her before? For one so young she had a superb form, her breasts were high and full, her hips rounded beneath the satin skirts. The small waist looked natural, not forced in by boning. Altogether she looked like an angel, a dream being swirled about the dance floor. He shrugged his shoulders; he had slept with more beautiful women. He turned away, almost colliding with his best friend, Philippe.

About to rob the nursery, DuBois? Have you run through all the willing matrons? I’ve been watching you devouring the girl-shame-she’s barely out of the schoolroom.

With a body like that they had best find her a husband fast. Makes a man want to taste-. Andre’s voice trailed off as Angelise neared them on the arm of her cousin. His senses tingled as she smiled directly at him, small white teeth against rose-red lips. Her breath seemed to catch as the black lashes dropped to fan her cheekbones.

Philippe watched his friend’s reaction with amusement. Andre, his womanizing the envy of the fast crowd, actually clenched his teeth. His nostrils flared at the effort to stop any show of emotion.

Philippe leaned toward Andre with a conspiring air. I will wager that you cannot seduce this innocent. Your conscience will not allow it-or rather, her cousins will not.

Angelise meant to smile at the two young men to please her cousin but instead her glance was captured by golden eyes. Him again. He leaned against a pillar, a glass in one hand. He was talking with another man and both of them were looking at her.

With a rush, her dreams of the handsome Andre invaded her thoughts again. Embarassed, she dropped her eyes, only to tread upon Pierre’s foot. Thankfully, the music ended just then.

I’ll fetch you some wine, Angelise. You need to relax and one glass will do you no harm. We won’t tell your aunt. Pierre strode in the direction of the tables, leaving her beside the balcony doors.

She refused a request to dance from one pasty young man. As another youth approached her, she snapped open her fan and turned her back. They were all so dull. Why didn’t her dream ask her to dance? She glanced in the direction where she had last seen him but he wasn’t there. He probably didn’t even remember her. She had been barely fifteen and while she had watched him with the flame-haired beauty for a quarter of an hour or more, he had only seen her for that brief few minutes.

That day, she had left a book of poetry by the lake and only intended to retrieve it before it was missed. But the clearing was occupied. Low murmering met her ears and she fell back into the cover of the drooping willows, her green dress blending with the dappled light. Her book was where she had left it but now a wicker basket sat beside it. Wine and cheese lay upon a napkin and a loaf of bread jutted over the rim of the basket. On a blanket spread under the gnarled oak tree, two people half-reclined.

His back to her, a young man with curly black hair leaned upon one elbow. His other hand was caught in the long red hair of a beautiful woman who sat with her legs curled under her. She leaned over him and he drew her down to kiss her. His hand began to unlace her bodice and she laughed and helped him with the task, her white breasts swinging free of the constraint.

Angelise gulped and covered her mouth. She had been innocently raised and though she had heard talk she had not imaged-.She took a step deeper into the trees but the woman looked up. Did she see her? The red lips curved into a smile as she caught the dark curls in her hand and brought his face to her breasts. Her head fell back and she moaned in pleasure as his mouth suckled her. His hand swept under her skirt, caressing her thigh.

Angelise’s felt hot all over. She should go. But she couldn’t move. The woman looked in her direction again. Surely she didn’t see her there. The flame hair covered them both as she swept her head from side to side. Her hands caught at the front of the young man’s pants and he groaned and reached for her.

She rolled away from him as he pulled her to him, her back now to Angelise. Angelise’s heart caught in her throat. He was so handsome, he was beautiful. She had never thought of any youths she had known as handsome. His skin was swarthy though tanned by the sun. It was lighter where the white shirt had been loosened at his waist. His chest was bronze and now almost naked. His black hair hung to his shoulders where it had escaped the leather thong holding it back. Long black eyelashes swept his sculptured cheekbones. He was muscular but slender. He did not look much older than herself, younger by far than his companion.

His sensuous mouth descended on the woman’s, then released her as one hand dropped to unfasten his britches. And then he raised his eyes and met Angelise’s. Golden brown, flecked with light, they fastened on the young girl hiding in the trees.

With a laugh he scrambled to his feet and was upon her before she could move. Angelise backed away and fell over a fallen limb, her skirts exposing slim ankles and long legs. She

had been wading earlier and had shed her shoes and stockings. The young man caught her hand and pulled her up and against him.

What have we here? Spying? Are you from the village? He caught her long plait in one hand, noting its’ clean fragrance. You’re one of the servants of the old lady?

Andre was amused and puzzled. She wore good but plain clothes. He knew most of the girls in the village, had seduced many of them, and he had never seen her. He would remember those wide grey eyes. He caught her chin in one hand and turned her face up to him. Tiny freckles crossed the bridge of her nose. Not a lady then. A lady would not be caught out in the sun. The girl’s long lashes were black and curling, her lips were red as were her cheeks at the moment. Her hair, even in the heavy braid, was the color of dark honey streaked with gold.

Would you then spy on us? Can you not answer? He leaned close. Should he kiss those trembling lips and see what she would do? But she pulled from his grasp and raised her chin in defiance.

The woman’s petulent voice broke the mood. Do dismiss the child, Andre. She’s had enough education for one day. Our time together is precious. Who would think you would be fascinated by a brat?

The wood nymph backed away from him. Before he could reach for her again she turned and ran. He watched her stoop to pick up her shoes and stockings then mount the mare bareback. He laughed in delight as she galloped down the dusty path, her legs bare up to her thighs. She looked back only once. He stood with legs apart and arms akimbo as though he owned the world.

Had he remembred her now? He had filled her girlish fastasies since that afternoon, dreams that made her warm all over. How would it feel to be in his arms, to be as beautiful as his red-haired companion?

Across the ballroom, Andre was in a deep discussion with his best friend, Philippe. The subject was indeed Angelise but she would not have liked the tone.

Those twin cousins of hers are like watch dogs. You couldn’t get within a mile of her bed, my friend. Philippe laughed. Andre’s reputation was at stake on this bet. I’ll raise the stakes. Seduce her any way you can but I won’t help you. The twins dislike me almost as much as they do you. I won’t even set a time limit. But remember, you must bring back a souvenir as proof.

Apparently, she is the grandaughter of our neighbor. I wonder if the old lady’s hot blood flows in the chit’s veins. That look she gave me when I arrived-. Andre had felt a thrill as she gazed at him. Her eyes may have dropped in confusion but not before he noted her intense interest. Many women threw themselves at him but they were careful around their husbands. Girls he no longer cared for, innocence was boring. Something about Angelise Ashley was far from boring but he would not admit it.

I heard that her mother eloped with an Englishman to one of the sugar islands, Barbados perhaps. Right under the nose of one of the leading families of France too. Her French husband died under mysterious circumstances and she never dared return home.

And the daughter has returned to claim her French inheritance from the grandmother, no doubt. That lady was notorious in her youth in King Louis’s court, so gossip says.

Perhaps we should call off the wager, Andre. She’s probably already lost her virginity if she follows after the other women in her family. Philippe cut his eyes up at the taller Andre. That would prod him along.

No, no. I have watched her tonight. She’s innocent enough. Sensuous but doesn’t know it yet. He had already started walking toward the girl with the gold streaked hair.

His friend watched in amusement as Andre played out his part, a soft touch here, a whispered word into a pretty ear there. Ladies’ eyes followed him, coaxing him to attend them. It would be an interesting season. He hoped Mademoiselle Ashley held out longer than most. Andre’s appetites were becoming jaded.

Andre noticed the girl’s dismissal of several young men as he wove through the crowded room. His height allowed him to keep her in view without being too obvious. The cousin had not reappeared. Good. When he spoke, she turned to face him, her fan aflutter.

Have I not seen you before, Mademoiselle? I had this feeling of deja vu when our eyes met. Andre caught her fingertips and brought them to his lips. It was improper to approach a young lady without a proper introduction but he cared little for appearances and the cousins certainly would not do the honours.

Andre DuBois, at your service. I’m told we are near neighbors. He noticed the slight tremble in her fingers which he still held. Her eyes met his. They seemed to change from a misty grey to silver rimmed with gold. Enchanting. The gold of her gown must account for it. Then the long, black lashes lowered to fan her cheeks and her face flushed with color. He realized he still held her fingers almost to his lips but they seemed to belong there. Annoyed with himself, he dropped her hand and laughed.

A presumption on my part, Mademoiselle. I could never have forgotten you. May we begin again? You are Angelise Ashley, a neighbor, and I am Andre DuBois. I would like you to dance with me. He gave her his best crooked smile and raised an eyebrow.

Angelise bit her lower lip to stop its trembling. A lady, she must behave like a lady, not some addled child. She slowly raised her eyes to his and smiled. His eyes all but matched her dress, their gold startling with the surrounding black lashes. She hoped he couldn’t hear the beat of her heart. She silently nodded her agreement and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

They moved together in perfection. Andre, used to being the center of attention, ignored their audience. Forgetting to worry about the intricate steps, Angelise followed his lead, her body attuned to his every move.

When the dance ended, Pierre pushed his way to her side. I brought your wine, Angelise. Perhaps we should join the others. Good to see you, DuBois. His curt nod was a dismissal but one the other man ignored.

We were just about to join the dancers again, weren’t we, Mademoiselle? This is one of those new ones. You’ll be in my arms entirely. He extended his arm to her and felt her small hand accept. Pierre stood ignored.

Andre felt every movement as he held her small waist. She was unfamilar with the steps but leaned into his hand and moved with perfection. In silence they enjoyed the closeness. As they left the floor, he guided her toward the open terrace doors.

Would you like to step outside where it is cooler? We can stay in the circle of light. He watched the play of emotions on her face. Her lips parted and her chin tilted upward as though waiting for a kiss. Then he remembered; a thick, golden plait, tiny freckles, bare feet. She had looked at him in the same way, her eyes wide, expectant. His hand reached to cup her face but his thumb traced a light path across her nose and cheek instead. There were no freckles now.

Monsieur? She drew back, startled.

Laughter played about his mouth but his eyes were more reflective. Lovely French; only in his language would an innocent query purse the lips for a kiss, for love.

Come. He drew her outside. Do you enjoy riding, Mademoiselle? Your grandmother once kept fine stables.

Oh, yes,-Grandmere has no riding horses now, only those for the carriage. Ah, but I miss the islands. Sometimes I would ride bareback across the beach. I can still feel the wind in my hair and the salt spray-but then, a lady would never do that here. Angelise stopped abruptly realizing she was babbling.

Andre was very quiet. The picnic, her flight, the vision of her bare thighs as they hugged the horse, her skirts flying--My father has stables, both on the estate and here in the city. Would you ride with me Sunday? We have a golden mare that matches your hair. Please say yes.

He was very close to her. She could smell the masculine scent of him, spice, and what? It filled her senses. She looked up and his lips were so near, almost brushing hers as he dipped his head.

She broke the spell. I, I must visit with Aunt Celia on Sunday. Perhaps she would not mind-

If you ask her you will not come. This could be our secret. Visiting can be so tiresome. I can meet you in the park by the lake. Damn, Philippe and his wagers. He had forgotten how boring virgins could be. But his opinion wavered as her face turned up again to his, her rose lips parted. The tip of her tongue carressed the softness. He felt her hand on his sleeve. His finger touched the slender gold chain at her throat, his eyes following the drop to the single ruby nestled between her breasts. He could see the fullness through the covering lace. He would swear the nipples were hardened, they strained against the soft fabric.

A lovely jewel, milady. His voice had become husky.

It belonged to my mother. The chain was too long, allowing it to snuggle in her cleavage. She felt her pulse quicken as his finger began to trace the chain downward. His lips were so close to hers she could feel his warm breath.

Ah, there you are, Angelise. It was that damn cousin again. Andre groaned inwardly. He moved away just as Pierre stepped out onto the terrace.

Mother has decided to leave and wishes you to go with her. A messenger arrived with a letter from your father, I believe. He bowed to DuBois. With your leave. Taking her arm, he guided her inside.

Andre headed straight to the library for paper and pen. When Angelise was handed her wrap, a folded note made its way into her hand. Tucking it into her bodice, she looked for Andre but he was nowhere in sight.

She sat backwards in the coach, facing her aunt and uncle. They were arguing her future, ignoring her presence.

But surely, dear, we can keep her with us until the end of next week. We have already accepted invitations for balls and suppers. This was her first dance. I am certain she will have offers of marriage before the season is over.

Her uncle cleared his throat and glared at Angelise as though she had uttered the words. That is exactly and precisely what her father does not want. Englishman that he is, he cannot bear the thought of a French son-in-law. I believe his words were to the effect that she would be ruined in the marriage market if she finished a season in Paris.

Angelise bit her lip to keep from screaming. How dare they-both of them. Aunt Celia only wished her to be happy. Her father and her uncle cared only for themselves. She couldn’t believe her once indulgent father had ordered her home to Barbados, immediately.

And you, young lady, didn’t Pierre warn you about Andre DuBois? Your reputation is already questionable. On the terrace, alone, with that connoisseur of women- Her uncle’s voice gave way to a fit of coughing.

I’m not going home to be wed, Uncle. You said his letter only wanted me to return. I will wed whom I please. She could almost feel Andre’s warm breath on her throat as his lips lowered to hers. Oh, why, had her cousin appeared just then.

She would meet Andre Sunday; her last chance to see him. She would pretend they had forever, not tell him she was leaving. Nothing would spoil her afternoon, nothing. She listened half-heartedly to the continued bickering concerning her father’s letter. Perhaps Andre would propose and she would marry him and remain in France forever. How would it feel to be kissed, to be in his arms?

Sunday was so slow coming. Monday she was to leave for her grandmother’s for farewells. Already her clothes were packed in the Paris house.

Afternoon came at last. Feigning a headache, Angelise stayed home from the visiting with her aunt. As soon as she was gone Angelise called for the small carriage, saying she had

decided to walk in the park, perhaps she would feel better in the breeze by the lake. The coachman’s disapproval was evident but Angelise insisted she would join two of her friends already there with their chaperons.

The carriage had stopped. Putting on all the airs she could muster, Angelise informed her aunt’s driver not to return for her until four o’clock. Sedately, she hoped, she began strolling in the direction of the lake looking for Andre.

At last-entering a sparse grove of willows, she saw him in the shade of the drooping branches. She glanced back to the safety of the carriage. Perhaps she should leave. But the carriage was now too far away, almost at the gate.

There is a cloth spread with dainties, a bottle of wine, and long-stemmed crystal glasses. She didn’t see horses anywhere. A moment of panic-she shouldn’t be here. Then he sees her and waves. Taking a deep breath, Angelise walked toward her dream.

As soon as he saw her coming across the lawn, Andre jumped to his feet. The breeze ruffled her skirts as she walked. Wisps of hair had escaped her coiffure and caressed her face. Her dress, of the palest yellow, fluttered about her ankles, a froth of white petticoat appearing now and then. Like a flower, or a butterfly-for a moment he felt remorse about his plans but a wager had to be won. Besides, if not him, someone else would benefit in his place. He thrived on the challenge of pursuit and he had never had any complaints. She would be a joy to teach. Several days of courting and then-.

The two horses were tied behind the willows. When Andre noticed her hesitation, he walked to meet her.

Well, you did come, Milady. Come and see how you like your golden mare. I brought a small picnic or we can just ride. What is your pleasure?

He patted the nose of the mare as she hesitated, a small frown creasing her brow.

Then the sun seemed to burst through the trees as she smiled, her white teeth sparkling against the rose lips. The mare whinnied, pushing her nose into Angelise’s hand hunting a treat.

Andre handed her an apple brought for the occasion. She likes the ladies but she is used to her bribes. He smiled back at her, enjoying her delight. You’re not dressed for riding."

I didn’t dare wear riding clothes. I will just have to explain why this dress is ruined, if it is. An accident, perhaps? Her tongue licked mischievously at her lip. My grandmother doesn’t keep horses for riding, only for harness. It’s been so long. Could the picnic wait, do you think?

Large grey eyes met his. Anything she asked would have been all right. He felt his pulse quicken. What was the matter with him? After all, she would soon be only another conquest.

But of course, he heard his voice as though from far away.

She had placed her small hand on his where it rested on the mare’s muzzle. He called to the small boy playing at the water’s edge and tossed him a coin to watch their lunch before turning back to her. Strong hands circling her dainty waist, he lifted her into the saddle. She was so soft; she couldn’t have worn a corset. The girl was full of surprises.

Angelise sighed. I wish I could ride as you do, without this side-saddle. The freedom is wonderful. Do I shock you? She was patting the mare’s neck as she spoke, waiting for him to bring his mount up beside hers.

A vision invaded Andre’s mind again; her skirts and hair flying, the ruffles revealing bare thighs. If she wore no corset, did she wear-? He could feel himself hardening in response. Annoyed, he shifted forward in the saddle. He was supposed to do the seducing, not this innocent.

I would be honored to ride with you, bare-backed if you like, if you will visit me at my father’s. There are rolling hills, beautiful country. It is not far from your grandmother’s. There we can ride as we please. Would you come?

In answer, Angelise laughed, nudging the mare and starting off at a gallop. Andre flew after her, their wild ride out of place in the peaceful park. Before they could enter the more populated area, he led them back toward the river and into the trees.

The riding path was deserted today and the air much cooler here. Tree branches interlaced overhead. They could smell the dampness, ferns weaving their arms as they brushed past.

Slowing to a walk, Andre reached out to catch her reins, his hand brushing hers. Warmth spread through them both at the casual touch. They had come to the other side of the woods, as area of buttercups and daisies spread before them in the dappled sunlight. Small pale butterflies flitted here and there. Angelise caught her breath at the unexpected beauty. Her heart was in her throat as his hand brushed her arm. But he only leaned near her to whisper, Look there. He pointed at a deer near the edge of the clearing. It bounded away when it sensed their presence.

Angelise became very still, her mind willing him to kiss her. But he did not. Apparently, she did not appeal to him in that way. She turned radiant eyes upon him, her black lashes wide. The excitement from the ride was slow to leave, kiss or no kiss.

I don’t know when I have enjoyed anything so much. I don’t think I can learn to love dancing quite as much as riding, not ever.

Andre raised one eyebrow and gave her a crooked grin. Why, my lady, was I so ghastly a partner? And all the while, I thought you were enjoying yourself.

Her smile disappeared leaving her looking girlish again and uncertain. Andre watched the play of emotions upon her face. Perhaps the time is ripe to add a little temptation.

The day has become overly warm. I hope you don’t mind. He removed his jacket, folding it before him over the saddle. The lace shirt opened without the restraint of the tight jacket, revealing his bare chest. It was bronzed and muscular. He worked with the swords every morning and was in superb physical shape, and he knew it. Many a woman swooned over him. He watched her. Perhaps we should get back, if we are to enjoy the wine.

Angelise’s face was a picture of confusion. Surely this wasn’t proper but she didn’t want to look away. She swallowed. He was so handsome, more than she had dreamed. Her eyes strayed again to his open shirt and the bare skin so close to her.

She could reach out and touch him, put her hand just inside the ruffle.

Abruptly she brought her mind back, realizing he was saying something to her about wine. Her eyes met his for an instant, her face flushing before she turned her mount and led the way back down the wooded path.

Once back to their picnic, they spent the rest of the afternoon talking. Often Andre took her hand, sometimes stroking her wrist. Once he kissed the open palm, making her pulse race.

Oh, why doesn’t he kiss me? Angelise wanted to touch his wide shoulders. He shouldn’t have removed his jacket. Proper or not, she longed to touch him there, where the soft material came to a vee. If only she dared. Surely a lady doesn’t have such thoughts.

Andre watched her face, the light in her eyes. She was excited. That was good. Her hands were soft and silky in his, her scent was of lilacs. He didn’t remember when he had enjoyed a pursuit more.

If only she weren’t so innocent. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss those sensuous lips until she cried out. But that would frighten her away. Slowly, slowly, he wanted her to come to him of her own volition.

He poured white wine into her glass; she had refused to drink so far. Leaning forward, he held it to her lips. She laughed, accepting a sip, then putting her hand up to push it gently away. A drop or two splashed onto her dress. Before she realized it, he was dabbing at the moisture with his handkerchief. His mouth hovered so near. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Again she willed him to kiss her. But no, his handkerchief brushed over her ever so lightly, leaving her trembling inside, then his hand moved away.

Good, she wanted him, even if she didn’t know it. Andre watched the play of expression on her face. He wondered if she would ever survive court life if she were to land there. Her face mirrored every thought.

He looked up at the sun. Enough for today. More and he might just take her now. She was delicate, delicious.

The time is late, Cherie. Your carriage will be returning and it is best we are not seen alone. He stood, reaching for her hands, and drew her to her feet. Catching one hand in his, he placed it against his heart, holding it there for a moment. He could feel her pulse quicken as her lips parted. He almost kissed her then. Because he wanted to, not because it was a game. When had this gotten out of hand?

Obscured by the trees, he watched her as she crossed to the coach. She was different. Like his mother was different. The underlying innocence hiding sensous warmth. No wonder his father was so in love with his mother. Most women were bitches, wonderful beings to bed but mere fluff. He had never felt more than a passing affection or lust for any of them.

Andre returned to gather up the lunch remains. Ah, there was her scarf. He brought the pale silk to his nose, her lilac scent stirred his loins. With a laugh, he tucked the scrap of fabric into his shirt, next to his heart. Perhaps he would call on her tomorrow. Why wait?

Philippe would be back on Tuesday. He would pay off the wager. He’d never live it down, forfeiting like that but he no longer wanted her on a bet. Humming to himself as he mounted, he thought, Not that I couldn’t still be the one to teach her, to introduce her to delights. To watch those grey eyes open wide in wonder as he made love to her; he could almost feel her satin skin against him now.

At the present he needed to visit one of his ladies before he burst. An afternoon of unfulfilled lust was not what he was used to.

Andre stood in the drawing room awaiting Angelise’s uncle. He was doing this properly, asking permission to attend her. His eyes swept the little china figurines on the marble mantle. Silly waste of money. His mother would never have had them in their house.

Hearing footfalls, he turned toward the doorway. Instead of the uncle, the cousin Pierre was there.

Andre, what a surprise. I’m afraid my father is not at home. In fact, I am the only one here, but it’s good to see you. How can I be of help? His face was smiling but not his eyes. He detested everything Andre stood for.

Sorry I’ve missed everyone. I can come back later. I wanted to pay my respects to Madeimoselle Ashley when she’s at home. He had a bad feeling about this. He was making a fool of himself.

Oh, she won’t be back any time soon. She’s left for her grandmother’s. Didn’t she tell you she was going? I’m sure she was aware of the plans the night of the ball. Pierre’s smile was smug. His hand touched his jacket pocket. The note she had asked him to deliver to Andre crinkled at his touch. He almost mentioned Barbados but before he could form the words, Andre was leaving.

Controlling his face, Andre made a polite but hasty exit. Anger bubbled into his throat almost choking him. To think, he had cared. She hadn’t even mentioned that she was leaving the city, had hinted she would like to see him. She had taken him in with her innocence. She was only playing a game like all the rest. How could he have been so gullible.

Ignoring the twist of pain in his stomach he headed for the club. He could drown almost anything with enough company and brandy. And the bet was still on, he’d see to that.

Pierre ignored the guilt at what he had done when Angelise returned from shopping, even at the disappointment on her face. She had run out for a last minute gift for her father. No, no one has called, Cousin. You mustn’t feel slighted. I told you what men like Andre found amusing. He frowned at the butler’s raised eyebrows, daring him to refute his words. There’s no time now. The coach is waiting. Remember we love you.

Farewells had been said earlier and she should have already been on her way. With a sigh she kissed her cousin’s cheeks.

Do not forget the letter. She had not truly thought Andre would call. At least her note would explain what had happened and would thank him for the lovely day in the park.

Angelise had lived here with her grandmother since she was thirteen. She had dutifully studied music, languages, dancing, and history. She could run a large household if necessary and conduct herself properly with court manners. Her father had been determined his only child be equipped as a lady should, but now he wanted her home. Why all the haste? She was being pulled once again from surroundings she loved.

At thirteen she had been miserable in the French countryside. If the twins, her cousins, hadn’t visited often she would have died of boredom. Now life was exciting and Andre was enchanting and she had to leave. It was so unfair. She looked down at her reflection in the still water.

Angelise slipped the soft slippers from her feet and dipped one toe into the cool lake. All the packing was finished and the trunks had been sent on ahead. She would leave at dawn tomorrow. Still wearing the simple cotton dress she had donned for packing, she had come to say farewell to her favorite spot. The day was warm and the grass felt cool to her bare feet. With a sigh she hiked her single petticoat and the full skirt above her ankles, then her knees, wading into the lake edge.

Beautiful day for a swim. The deep voice came from under the shade.

Startled, Angelise dropped her skirts as she met the amused golden eyes. He was leaning against the old oak, one knee bent to prop a foot against the thick trunk.

Oh, see what you made me do. They’re all wet. I can’t go back like this. She grasped the skirts again and stepped out onto the grass. Flustered, she bent to wring out the hem, her face flushed with embarassment.

Let me help. Andre was at her side, his hands covering hers as the remaining water dripped onto the grass. Come sit in the sun. They’ll dry quick enough.

He sat down beside her, spreading the wet fabric out as she tucked her feet under her. I didn’t mean to startle you. I come here often when I’m home. Both of them were silent, their emotions in turmoil.

I enjoyed the day in the park. I had to return to Grandmere’s rather suddenly. Anglise had no intention of telling him she had written him a note. If he hadn’t called she would not further embarrass herself.

He was so close, her heart fluttered. The masculine smell of him was overpowering. Her black lashes lowered but still he said nothing. Raising her eyes to his, her lips parted-just before his mouth covered hers. The kiss was tender, his lips tasting her softness. Not real, she thought, I’ve dreamed this too often. Fire ran through her, spiraling at his touch.

He deepened the kiss, his hand cupping the back of her head and pulling her to him. Her hand splayed against his chest, then crept upward to circle his neck.

How sweet, how sweet she tasted. His tongue explored the warmth as his lips moved on hers. His fingers combed her hair pulling the ribbon free. Gradually he lowered her to the grass, following her down. She resisted for only a moment, then snuggled into his embrace as his arms enclosed her.

His mouth moved to her ear, then feathered small kisses down her throat to where the pulse beat so rapidly. His teeth nipped at her full lower lip, followed the curve of her mouth to the corners and kissed there before his tongue once again tasted her. He thrust into the sweetness of her mouth again and again. One hand moved to hold the curve of her buttock closer, the soft fabric no barrier.

Angelise felt heat curl over her, settling between her legs. A small mewing sound escaped her as his lips followed the scooped neckline of her dress to the center buttons. She was unaware he had loosened the top ones until his mouth kissed the tops of her breasts, one hand cupping to bring the fullness to his

mouth. A longing spiraled through her, her back arched upward to him. Andre’s mouth closed on the peaked nipple, pulling it further into his mouth. Her reaction was his undoing. Her body moved with sensuous writhing against him, her hand twisting into his hair, her head thrown back.

This time it was Andre who groaned. His arousal pressed against her thigh as he pulled her beneath him. His hand pulled her skirts upward, intending to remove her undergarments.

Dear lord, the girl was naked. His hand caressed silky thighs. A lady or a hoyden? He no longer cared. He wanted to bury himself inside her, fill her, possess her. He hadn’t lost control like this in years. He was the famed lover, the giver of pleasure, the patient seducer.

Andre’s hand slid upward, to cup the wet curls hiding her womanhood, stroking the slickness. He felt her tremble clear to his soul. Her eyes flew open but he kissed them closed and thrust inside her mouth again as his fingers moved against her heat, circling the center of her passion. He applied more pressure to her mons when she pushed against his chest. He felt her quiver as she pressed her lips against his throat.

He stopped then, his eyes searching for permission. He felt her legs close against his hand but she seemed to regain her senses. Her wide grey eyes were dilated with passion but tears brimmed on her lashes. Had he hurt her, then?

Struggling for control, he removed his fingers, pulled her skirts down. For the first time in his life, he cared what could happen. She would be ruined if he took her maidenhead. He had never thought about consequences before but now-he had almost taken her. She was willing, her body cuddled into his. God, he wanted to feel her sheath around him, to fill her with his seed, to be the first to love her. Ah, to hell with the wager! His lack of control had nothing to do with Philippe, only this girl, this softness against him.

When he could speak again he questioned, I’ve made you unhappy? He gently kissed the tears, the salt against his lips twisting his heart.

He almost did not hear her soft reply. I didn’t know it could be like this. I feel so—. Her voice trailed off as her fingers reached up to stroke his cheek, tracing his jaw. Her body still felt fluid, wanting. She reached upward and brushed his lips with a softness that melted him.

Andre chuckled but his voice was husky. He smoothed her bodice, one hand rebuttoning it with finesse. No, it gets much better. Someday, I’ll show you. He stood, his snug trousers much too tight, his erection pushing for release. He reached down and lifted her to her feet as though she were a feather.

Her heart thundered afresh as her hands grasped his arms. The muscles flexed beneath her fingers and she bit her lower lip to keep from leaning against him. He seemed displeased.

Your skirts are almost dry. Andre held himself away from her with sheer will power. He stepped back.

Well then,I must go before I-before I-before I’m missed. That was a stupid thing to say, Angelise thought. She slipped her feet into the slippers, warm from the sun. His eyes followed every movement but he didn’t reach out to her again.

She moved toward the trees then turned back to smile at him, her small teeth catching the corner of her lip. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I didn’t know what to do. Your hands make me-I’ve behaved like a courtesan. Her face flushed. She wouldn’t see him again. She wanted so to touch him once more but he just stood watching her. She took a step backward.

Andre’s heart was in his throat. How could he ever have thought she was only pretty? The dappled sunlight shot gold streaks through her hair. Her rose lips were bruised from his kisses. The breeze molded the light fabric against her breasts, her thighs. She was exquisite.

Andre opened his arms holding them to his side. Give me a farewell kiss. I won’t keep you. No hands, promise. He gave her a crooked smile. If he touched her he would take her. His body ached for her yet he didn’t want her like this, over a wager. Still she hesitated. A boon, milady, a kiss. His arms stayed open at his sides.

Angelise laughed and the sound was music to his soul. Her wish was granted. She walked close before him but he remained motionless. She moistened her lips as he lowered his head to her. Her lips touched his with softness but as the hunger deepened her hand moved to the nape of his neck pulling him harder against her mouth. Her tongue tickled his lips until they parted and entered as he had shown her.

She felt rather than heard his intake of breath. Her lips moved over his as she tried to memorize the feel of him. Her mouth opened to accept him once more, then withdrew to caress his lips. Andre groaned, his fists closed.

Then she was gone. She didn’t look back. He watched her disappear into the willows. He didn’t see the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she rode home.

Andre waited another day before calling on her. He didn’t like feeling besotted. This was new to him and he would have to regain his perspective. The heavy carved door opened.

I’m here to see Mademoiselle Angelise Ashley, if you please. The broad peasant face before him looked perplexed.

Would you like to speak with Madame? The young lady has left and will not be returning. Gone home to her father’s in Barbados, she has. Left at dawn yesterday. The face swam before him. What did she say?

Andre’s surprise turned to an ache in his chest, followed quickly by fury. Bitch! She was just like all the rest, wanting him only for the pleasure he could give. He clenched his jaws to keep from cursing. He saw a lovely older lady approaching but didn’t stay to be polite. He marched back down the steps to his horse and rode at a gallop out of the garden, through the plot of lilies, and straight across the fields toward his estate, the road be damned.

Angelise’s grandmother watched the young man’s flight in surprise. That would most likely be Andre DuBois, her neighbor. She hadn’t seen him since he was a child but such a handsome boy. She had overheard the short conversation at the door and had meant to invite him in.

No doubt this explained Angelise’s behavior of late, the disinterest in returning home. She hadn’t realised-she really should have talked with her grandaughter about men-but she had only been to that one dance in Paris and then back here. How could anything happen in that time? Well, the women in her family were all hot-blooded, it would be the death of them yet. She sighed. Youth was so full of excitement and heartbreak. She wouldn’t have missed a moment of it.

CHAPTER TWO

Almost home. They had seen gulls for several days now. Angelise stretched as she opened the bow windows. The salt mist was refreshing. Even this early, with the sun just peeping above the waves, she could tell it would be another warm day.

She had taken to wearing as little clothing as decently possible. Her father had always said to be practical; that the heavy garments preferred by most of the island gentry led to disease and discomfort. After the cool French countryside, this heat was oppressing. Thank goodness for the sea wind-and that Barbados was higher than most of the islands, receiving almost a constant breeze.

She climbed back into the small bed, pulling the sheeting up to her chin. She wouldn’t even put her slip on yet, one more day of freedom to do as she pleased. Dozing, she was unaware of the confusion on deck until there was a crash outside her door.

A great hulk of a man stepped over the splintered door. His hair was long and golden, his skin burnt brown by the sun. He smelled of sweat and blood and the sea. He sheathed the sword and stood over her bed, arms akimbo.

Mistress Ashley, I presume? His broad mouth curved up in a grin, one bushy eyebrow raised. He was breathing hard as though he had been running, or fighting.

Angelise was suddenly aware of shouting, gunfire, and the clash of metal against metal. The sun was barely up but how could she have slept through an attack? She stared at the pirate, if that is what he was, her mouth a round oh. The light bedcover was pulled up under her chin as she sat up and swung her legs to the side of the low bed.

Get out! If you know who I am-you know better than to harm me. My father will have you hunted down like a dog. She tipped her chin up defiantly and stared into vivid blue eyes. The man actually had the