“Exactly.”
That just seemed so thoroughly preposterous to her she wanted to applaud. Restraining herself, Natalie merely tilted her chin knowingly and tapped her fingers on the sleeve of her gown. With mild sarcasm, she charged, “And I suppose, Jonathan, since it’s your business to buy and sell things, your intention is to purchase a priceless antique from the man.” Her eyes lit up dramatically. “Oooo. Maybe a new weapon for your wall.”
For a second or two he watched her with a face void of expression. Then slowly, levelly, he shook his head in wonder. “How did you guess?”
“How did I—” She stopped talking abruptly and gaped at him in mounting disbelief. “You’re here to buy a weapon from the comte d’Arles?”
His brows rose innocently. “A sword, actually.”
“A sword,” she repeated flatly, her hands now resting on either side of her waist. “You came all the way to France to buy a sword for your wall.”
“Yes, I did.”
“From the comte d’Arles.”
“Yes.”
“And the lovely Mrs. DuMais is arranging it all.”
He shrugged. “I think we’ve covered everything.”
“I think I’d like to see this sword of yours,” she demanded suspiciously.
He grinned wryly. “If and when the time is right, Natalie, I will allow you a very good look at it.”
Even now he was so arrogant. Natalie had no idea what to say to him, if he was lying outright, teasing her, or making excuses to conceal his romantic affair with the beautiful Mrs. DuMais. She couldn’t begin to imagine any man, even him, a gentleman with too much time and money on his hands, traveling abroad simply to buy a sword to hang on a wall. But if he was fabricating an incredible story, she would never recognize it because she just couldn’t read him, and that’s what truly made her mad. He always seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking.
He turned toward the bed, reaching for his suit. “We’re invited to a ball at his estate Saturday,” he continued indifferently, moving in the direction of the small wardrobe closet. “I assume you have an appropriate gown hiding somewhere in the piles and piles of things you brought.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Natalie ignored it. Her inability to travel lightly was somewhat of a touchy subject between them.
“And before you ask,” he went on, now kneeling before his only trunk, “I’ve sent a message to the Black Knight.”
“You waited until now to tell me?” she blurted.
He brushed over that. “He hasn’t replied, but there’s a rumor he’s also planning to attend the party.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why is he attending this particular function?” she clarified, exasperated.
He lifted his shoulders negligibly but didn’t look at her. “I should expect he has a worthy reason, though I really have no idea.”
“No doubt to steal the count’s precious sword,” she offered sarcastically.
He smirked. “Maybe he’ll carry you off instead, my sweet Natalie.”
His lighthearted words didn’t register. Her mind was already racing with possibilities, her heart pounding with anticipation, and suddenly she didn’t care about Mrs. DuMais or the count or swords or France. It was now only days until the meeting of a lifetime.
Jonathan walked up to stand before her, gazing down at her face, his excellent eyes turned pensive. Then quite unexpectedly he raised his palm to her cheek, momentarily startling her with the feel of his warm skin against hers.
“Meeting him is extremely important to you,” he said softly, thoughtfully.
She inhaled deeply but didn’t pull away. “Yes, it is.”
He was quiet for a long moment, studying her, gliding his thumb along her jaw.
“You’ll like Madeleine, Natalie,” he carefully maintained. “She’s refreshing and experienced, and those qualities make her interesting.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “But your innocence and passion for everything life has to offer make you
That just seemed so thoroughly preposterous to her she wanted to applaud. Restraining herself, Natalie merely tilted her chin knowingly and tapped her fingers on the sleeve of her gown. With mild sarcasm, she charged, “And I suppose, Jonathan, since it’s your business to buy and sell things, your intention is to purchase a priceless antique from the man.” Her eyes lit up dramatically. “Oooo. Maybe a new weapon for your wall.”
For a second or two he watched her with a face void of expression. Then slowly, levelly, he shook his head in wonder. “How did you guess?”
“How did I—” She stopped talking abruptly and gaped at him in mounting disbelief. “You’re here to buy a weapon from the comte d’Arles?”
His brows rose innocently. “A sword, actually.”
“A sword,” she repeated flatly, her hands now resting on either side of her waist. “You came all the way to France to buy a sword for your wall.”
“Yes, I did.”
“From the comte d’Arles.”
“Yes.”
“And the lovely Mrs. DuMais is arranging it all.”
He shrugged. “I think we’ve covered everything.”
“I think I’d like to see this sword of yours,” she demanded suspiciously.
He grinned wryly. “If and when the time is right, Natalie, I will allow you a very good look at it.”
Even now he was so arrogant. Natalie had no idea what to say to him, if he was lying outright, teasing her, or making excuses to conceal his romantic affair with the beautiful Mrs. DuMais. She couldn’t begin to imagine any man, even him, a gentleman with too much time and money on his hands, traveling abroad simply to buy a sword to hang on a wall. But if he was fabricating an incredible story, she would never recognize it because she just couldn’t read him, and that’s what truly made her mad. He always seemed to be able to tell what she was thinking.
He turned toward the bed, reaching for his suit. “We’re invited to a ball at his estate Saturday,” he continued indifferently, moving in the direction of the small wardrobe closet. “I assume you have an appropriate gown hiding somewhere in the piles and piles of things you brought.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Natalie ignored it. Her inability to travel lightly was somewhat of a touchy subject between them.
“And before you ask,” he went on, now kneeling before his only trunk, “I’ve sent a message to the Black Knight.”
“You waited until now to tell me?” she blurted.
He brushed over that. “He hasn’t replied, but there’s a rumor he’s also planning to attend the party.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why is he attending this particular function?” she clarified, exasperated.
He lifted his shoulders negligibly but didn’t look at her. “I should expect he has a worthy reason, though I really have no idea.”
“No doubt to steal the count’s precious sword,” she offered sarcastically.
He smirked. “Maybe he’ll carry you off instead, my sweet Natalie.”
His lighthearted words didn’t register. Her mind was already racing with possibilities, her heart pounding with anticipation, and suddenly she didn’t care about Mrs. DuMais or the count or swords or France. It was now only days until the meeting of a lifetime.
Jonathan walked up to stand before her, gazing down at her face, his excellent eyes turned pensive. Then quite unexpectedly he raised his palm to her cheek, momentarily startling her with the feel of his warm skin against hers.
“Meeting him is extremely important to you,” he said softly, thoughtfully.
She inhaled deeply but didn’t pull away. “Yes, it is.”
He was quiet for a long moment, studying her, gliding his thumb along her jaw.
“You’ll like Madeleine, Natalie,” he carefully maintained. “She’s refreshing and experienced, and those qualities make her interesting.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “But your innocence and passion for everything life has to offer make you
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