On My Lady's Honor (All for one, and one for all) (48 page)

He cocked his head on one side and looked at her with a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes.
 
“Have you never wanted to rebel against custom?” he asked.
 
“Have you never wanted to do something so utterly unexpected that people would never look at you the same way again?
 
Have you never wanted to be free to live your life the way you want to live it, without thinking about what other people feel or say about you?”

She wanted to be a successful merchant like her papa and make clever bargains so that he was proud of her – but she did not want to defy custom in any other way.
 
“Not particularly.
 
I suppose I am not the rebellious sort.”

“Every person is the rebellious sort if they care enough about something.
 
Have you never wanted to kick off your shoes and squelch through the mud in your bare toes?
 
Have you never wanted to dance naked in the rain?
 
Have you never wanted to spend the whole evening with a fascinating stranger you have just met instead of being polite to all your friends as you know you ought to be but don’t feel in the mood for?”

She grinned at him.
 
He was trying to bait her into spending the evening with him.
 
“Mud is full of worms and I don’t like having worms between my toes.
 
Besides, good manners and duty to King and country make for a civilized society.”

He was not smiling now - as if she had said something that displeased him.
 
“Passion makes for an honest one.”

She did not see why she should be forced to choose.
 
“You can be honest and polite at the same time.”

“Can you?”

“Of course.”

“But if you had to choose between them, which one would you choose?”

There was only one answer to that question.
 
“I would have to choose honesty.”

A smile spread over his face, making the curled ends of his moustache point towards the ceiling.
 
“Good choice.
 
You have chosen to spend the evening with me, and let your guests go hang.”

She shook her head.
 
He was trying to twist her words around again to make them mean something she never would have said.
 
“I said no such thing.”

“You chose honesty over courtesy.
 
You want to spend the evening with me, do you not, and only courtesy is stopping you?”

She could feel the tips of her ears grow pink and hot.
 
Were her feelings that easy to read, or was he just making a shrewd guess?
 
“You are very sure of yourself.”

“I am a soldier.
 
I take what I want – if I can get it.
 
Tonight I want your company.”

Just then the musicians struck up again.
 
He held out his hand and she accepted it with a tremor in her stomach.
 
He was so forthright in his demands she could not say him nay.
 
“You may have my company for a while longer then, if it pleases you.”

His teeth were a brilliant flash of white under his curled moustache as he led her on to the floor again.
 
“It pleases me greatly.”

Courtney could feel the disapproving eyes of the matrons on her as she stepped out again with the same partner.
 
Madame Legros, she knew well, would be particularly displeased.
 
Even more than her father and Monsieur Legros, she wanted to see a match made between Courtney and her son.
 

Poor Justin
, she thought to herself with a small sigh.
 
Once she might have considered him, lukewarm as his affection for her was, but now she had hardly a thought to spare for the boy.
 
What was Justin when compared with the dashing Monsieur le Tournay?

She put the thought of Madame Legros’s sour face out of her mind.
 
She would not worry about her now, not when she was being spun about by her soldier.

The second dance seemed even shorter than the first had done.
 
She was surprised to find herself out of breath at the end of it.
 
She must have been dancing with more spirit than usual.
 
Either that, or her dashing partner had taken her breath away.

“You look flushed,” he said in a low voice as he led her away again, her hand on his arm.
 
“May I get you a glass of wine?”

A glass of wine was just what she needed to cool down the heat of her face and moisten her parched throat.
 
“Yes, please.”

He escorted her to a secluded spot by the large doors that lead out to the garden.
 
“Wait for me here.
 
I will be with you again shortly.”

The cool air from the open doors, perfumed with the sweet scent of a warm summer evening, bathed her in its freshness.
 
She breathed deeply, reveling in her momentary distance from the crowd in the great chamber.
 
She needed a few moments to collect herself, to gather herself together again.
 
She could not do it in Monsieur de Tournay’s company.
 
On the contrary - his presence was the disturbing element that she needed to come to terms with.
 
She was intoxicated by him – yet she felt a sense of danger when he was around.
 
She did not know what to do with him.
 
All she knew was that she did not want to lose a moment of his company.

Before she had done more than draw a few deep breaths, he was back again, pressing a glass of cool white wine into her hands.
 
She gulped down a mouthful of the tangy liquid.
 
The tiny bubbles fizzed for an instant on her tongue before going straight to her head.
 
After a couple of mouthfuls, she felt as though her head was so full of bubbles that it would float out of the windows, up into the evening sky, and away into the clouds.

When her glass was empty, he set it down on a low table and took her arm in his.
 
“Shall we walk?” he murmured, gesturing at the courtyard, bathed in the last golden rays of the departing sun.

Courtney stepped carefully down the wide stone steps that led to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard.
 
“You are determined to have me to yourself tonight.”

“As I told you before - I am a Musketeer in the King’s Guard.
 
We always get what we want in the end.”

She peeked at him from under her lashes.
 
“Always?”

“Always.”

She sat on the edge of the stone fountain and looked admiringly at the finely waxed curls of his black moustache.
 
She had always thought Justin so handsome, but he could never grow such a fine moustache.
 
The one time Justin had tried to grow a beard, it had been sandy red and so thin and straggly that he had shaved it off again in less than a month.
 

Monsieur de Tournay’s face, including his moustache, was perfect in every way.
 
He was just the sort of lover she had fantasized about in the dark of the night, when no one else was around to laugh at her imaginings.
 
Her phantom lover would be dark, mysterious, romantic.
 
He would fall madly in love with her at first sight and sweep her off her feet – away to his castle in Spain, where they would live together in mutual adoration for the rest of their lives.
 

Monsieur de Tournay was perilously close to her phantom lover in the flesh.
 
He needed only to fall desperately in love with her for her dream to come true…
 

She smiled at him, laughing inwardly at herself for the direction her thoughts were taking.
 
“Well, you have my company – for now.”
 
She arranged her skirts tidily on the stone edge of the fountain, making room for Monsieur de Tournay to sit beside her.
 
“What else could you possibly want?”

He took her hands in his and leaned forward so that his sweet breath tickled her cheeks.
 
“A kiss from a beautiful woman.”

She felt the pit of her stomach curl in excitement.
 
She had been hoping he would try to steal a kiss from her.
 
She was not a complete novice when it came to kissing.
 
Several of her suitors had tried to snatch a kiss from her in the past, but she had sent most of them away with a most unladylike box around the ears.
 
She would make an exception for this handsome Frenchman though.
 
He could kiss her all he wanted and welcome.

She pretended to misunderstand him.
 
“You may kiss my hand,” she said, raising her hand partway to his lips.

He caressed her fingers with his own as he raised her hand to his lips and planted a row of gentle kisses on each finger.
 
“You have beautiful hands,” he said, when he had kissed every inch of her hand, “but that is not what I wanted.”

She laughed.
 
“It was not?”

“Pleasant though it was, I did not want to kiss your hand.”

She made a face of mock disappointment.
 
“I am not a beautiful woman?”

He twirled one finger round a lock of her blonde hair.
 
“On the contrary - you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“Then why do you not want to kiss me?”

“I do want to kiss you.
 
I want it very much - but even more than that I want you to kiss me.”

His tactics were sneakier than those of her previous suitors had been.
 
They had been content to steal a kiss from her.
 
He wanted her to give him one willingly.
 
She lifted his hand to her mouth and gave it a brief peck.
 
“There.
 
Your wish is granted,” she said as she dropped his hand back into his lap.

He shook his head with a rueful smile.
 
“For such a beautiful woman, you are a miserly kisser indeed.”

She raised her nose in the air, miffed at being accused of miserliness.
 
“I do not kiss every man who asks.”

“I am not every man.
 
One of these days I will show you just how different I am from every other man you have ever known.”

So he said, at any rate.
 
She was unsure whether she ought to believe him or not.
 
“I shall look forward to the day.”

He ignored her sarcasm.
 
“Look at me, Miss Ruthgard, Courtney.”

Her name was a sweet, soft caress on his tongue.
 
She knew she should not look at him, but she could not resist the temptation.

His deep brown eyes held her gaze in a grip so potent that she could not break it.
 
She felt as though she was drowning in their depths.
 
“I dare you to kiss me.”
 
His voice was deep, compelling.
 
It was the voice of a spirit who urged her on to seal her doom.
 
She could sense its fatal power over her, and yet she could not resist it.
 
She could not turn her head away.

Without her willing it to, her head inched closer to his.
 
Their faces were close, almost touching.
 
The tip of his moustache tickled her cheek like the wisp of a feather.
 
His nose bumped gently against hers.
 
She could feel his breath intermingling with her own as their faces inexorably drifted together.

The softness of his lips against her own formed an unlikely contrast with the sharp prickling of his moustache against her upper lip.
 
The hairs tickled her nose and she suppressed a giggle.
 
Her first proper kiss was nothing to laugh at.