intimately between a man and a woman. Now if you will please release me, Jonathan, I’m very hungry and ready for luncheon.”
For all the money in the world, he wouldn’t release her now. “An excellent idea?” When she added nothing, he continued with the challenge. “Do you remember how long I was in her home?”
Her eyes flashed brilliantly. “I remember she was beautiful and hardly the Black Knight, the only person you should have been meeting today. I’m paying you to introduce us. Perhaps you’ll try to remember that.”
The urge to kiss her was suddenly overwhelming. “Answer my question,” he insisted instead.
She faltered, then sighed and announced, “At least ten minutes.”
He leaned very close to whisper, “Intimate rendezvous usually take longer than ten minutes.”
She grinned triumphantly. “But not, I’m sure, for someone of your experience, Jonathan.”
He laughed outright and squeezed her against him, both arms now encircling her waist, relishing in the feel of her supple, perfectly formed breasts against his chest. “How long would it take you to remove and dress again in these layers upon layers of clothes?”
She gaped at him, made speechless for once.
With the sweet taste of victory, he murmured, “It would take her just as long.”
Driving that point home, he let her go.
Indignant, Natalie knew he’d won for the moment because she found the topic just too disturbing and foreign to discuss further. She watched him walk to the small bureau of chipped and faded cherry wood, open the top drawer, and pull out a shirt. Realizing he intended to change, she turned her back to him, considering quickly how she could move to a more suitable issue of discussion without him realizing she did so purposely, then ultimately becoming grateful when he did it himself.
“We’re leaving here,” he said from behind her.
She folded her arms over her breasts. “Going where?”
She heard the rustle of clothes as she imagined him pulling them from his body, and she resisted the urge to peek. For all his faults, and disregarding her virtuous upbringing, she considered his bare chest one of nature’s marvels.
“I’m taking you somewhere nicer and cooler,” he replied. “That’s where I’ve been for the last three hours, in case you’re wondering. Finding lodgings where you’d be more comfortable.”
Now she felt guilty. With growing shyness, she mumbled, “I hope you weren’t thinking we’d stay with the Frenchwoman.”
He chuckled as she heard him sit on the bed. “Her name is Madeleine DuMais, and I think you’ll like her—and no, we won’t be staying in her home.”
“You’ll like her” implied a meeting between them, and Natalie couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. Brushing sticky curls from her cheeks, she asked as indifferently as she could manage, “I suppose Miss DuMais knows the Black Knight and that was the reason for your visit?”
When he didn’t answer her immediately, she allowed herself to pivot back to him, watching him put his shoes on with concentration, taking in his impressive appearance made casual in dark-brown trousers and a pale, silk shirt, similar to those he’d worn their first day out of port. He certainly didn’t bring much variety for clothes.
“Jonathan?” she pressed, tired of waiting for answers.
He cast her a sideways glance, and again she got the feeling he was annoyed, or perhaps just hiding something.
At last he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, placed both palms on his knees, and pushed himself up. Hands on hips, he stared at her candidly. “The widowed Mrs. DuMais is arranging a business meeting between the comte d’Arles and me for later this week.”
She blinked, surprised. “A business meeting between you and a French count?”
“Yes.”
“Arranged by a gracefully beautiful young widow,” she stated rather than asked, pronouncing each word precisely.
He spread his palms wide.
For all the money in the world, he wouldn’t release her now. “An excellent idea?” When she added nothing, he continued with the challenge. “Do you remember how long I was in her home?”
Her eyes flashed brilliantly. “I remember she was beautiful and hardly the Black Knight, the only person you should have been meeting today. I’m paying you to introduce us. Perhaps you’ll try to remember that.”
The urge to kiss her was suddenly overwhelming. “Answer my question,” he insisted instead.
She faltered, then sighed and announced, “At least ten minutes.”
He leaned very close to whisper, “Intimate rendezvous usually take longer than ten minutes.”
She grinned triumphantly. “But not, I’m sure, for someone of your experience, Jonathan.”
He laughed outright and squeezed her against him, both arms now encircling her waist, relishing in the feel of her supple, perfectly formed breasts against his chest. “How long would it take you to remove and dress again in these layers upon layers of clothes?”
She gaped at him, made speechless for once.
With the sweet taste of victory, he murmured, “It would take her just as long.”
Driving that point home, he let her go.
Indignant, Natalie knew he’d won for the moment because she found the topic just too disturbing and foreign to discuss further. She watched him walk to the small bureau of chipped and faded cherry wood, open the top drawer, and pull out a shirt. Realizing he intended to change, she turned her back to him, considering quickly how she could move to a more suitable issue of discussion without him realizing she did so purposely, then ultimately becoming grateful when he did it himself.
“We’re leaving here,” he said from behind her.
She folded her arms over her breasts. “Going where?”
She heard the rustle of clothes as she imagined him pulling them from his body, and she resisted the urge to peek. For all his faults, and disregarding her virtuous upbringing, she considered his bare chest one of nature’s marvels.
“I’m taking you somewhere nicer and cooler,” he replied. “That’s where I’ve been for the last three hours, in case you’re wondering. Finding lodgings where you’d be more comfortable.”
Now she felt guilty. With growing shyness, she mumbled, “I hope you weren’t thinking we’d stay with the Frenchwoman.”
He chuckled as she heard him sit on the bed. “Her name is Madeleine DuMais, and I think you’ll like her—and no, we won’t be staying in her home.”
“You’ll like her” implied a meeting between them, and Natalie couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. Brushing sticky curls from her cheeks, she asked as indifferently as she could manage, “I suppose Miss DuMais knows the Black Knight and that was the reason for your visit?”
When he didn’t answer her immediately, she allowed herself to pivot back to him, watching him put his shoes on with concentration, taking in his impressive appearance made casual in dark-brown trousers and a pale, silk shirt, similar to those he’d worn their first day out of port. He certainly didn’t bring much variety for clothes.
“Jonathan?” she pressed, tired of waiting for answers.
He cast her a sideways glance, and again she got the feeling he was annoyed, or perhaps just hiding something.
At last he ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, placed both palms on his knees, and pushed himself up. Hands on hips, he stared at her candidly. “The widowed Mrs. DuMais is arranging a business meeting between the comte d’Arles and me for later this week.”
She blinked, surprised. “A business meeting between you and a French count?”
“Yes.”
“Arranged by a gracefully beautiful young widow,” she stated rather than asked, pronouncing each word precisely.
He spread his palms wide.
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