The Worldly Widow (9 page)

Sh
e heard her name as if from a gr
eat distance. Her slumberous thoughts absorbed the word, testing the dark, syrupy flavor of the voice which called to her.

"Annabelle,
"
said the voice again, and she felt it pouring over her like warm treacle—wet, thick, and infinitely sweet.

She tasted it on her tongue and opened her lips to take in more of it. It pooled, overflowed, and coursed down from throat to ankle, submerging her in its potent warmth, clinging to her like a lover
'
s embrace.
Danger!
she thought, and felt herself, like an unsuspecting bee drawn to the jam pot, caught and held by the sweetness which had attracted her. She began to struggle.

Dalmar groaned as her fist caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder. He captured her wrists and held them over her head.

Anna
belle
'
s eyes flew open. For a terrified moment she stared up at the dark masculine shadow which loomed over her. Slowly, by degrees, she came to herself. Her tame lion had wakened, she thought drowsily, and smiled up at him.

Her
li
ps were taken in a kiss that was anything but tame. When he drew back his head, Annabelle saw the flame in his eyes, and the sensual flare of his nostrils.

"David,
"
she breathed on a note of alarm. She became conscious of several things at once. She was naked beneath the quilt, and the man who was sprawled so suggestively over the top half of her body, pinning her with his weight, was as naked as she.

She saw the stark and uncompromising hunger in his eyes and said his name more sternly, "David! Your arm! Your shoulder! Don
'
t…
"

He kissed her into silence, and though she squirmed beneath him, she was too solicitous of his injuries to struggle in earnest.

She dragged her head away and hoarsely managed to get out,
"I don
'
t wish to hurt you. Please, David, don
'
t make me fight you.
"

"Don
'
t then,
"
he muttered against her throat. "Give in to me. Please, Annabelle. We both know this moment was inevitable.
"

She felt the upward movement of his hand at her waist. It molded itself to her breast, and the air was suddenly stripped from her lungs. As the pads of his fingers grazed first one sensitive nipple, then the other, pulling gently on the swollen peaks, she cried out softly.

"Yes,
"
he murmured. "Yes. Like this. Give in to me,
"
and his mouth, hotly moist, followed the path of his fingers.

She felt the hard pull at her breast as he suckled deeply, and the tightening in her womb as it responded to his masculine demand. Her hands splayed out against his chest, gently restraining him.

"David, please,
"
she cried out, scarcely aware of what she was saying. "You
'
re sedated. You don
'
t know what you
'
re doing. You
'
ll open the wound.
"

"Not if you make it easy for me,
"
he coaxed. "Give yourself to me, love. Make it easy for me.
"

The hot, dark words stirred an ache in the center of her being. As his tongue laved the hollow between her breasts, the ache became a throb, and Annabelle felt her senses go spinning. Her head shifted restlessly on the pillow as she tried to absorb what was happening to her. In a forlorn attempt to evade the seduction of her senses, she inched herself toward the edge of the bed.

Her mild act of resistance provoked him to thrust her legs apart and settle the full press of one leg against the cradle of her thighs. Involuntarily she jerked away from the heavy masculine arousal which pressed so threateningly against her body.

"Where are my clothes?
"
she demanded on a strangled note.

"On the floor. You didn
'
t object when I removed them.
"

She felt his hand at the back of her knee, lifting her leg slightly. "No, oh please, listen to me,
"
she moaned, "I was
dreaming. I don
'
t want this.
"

His voice, low and thick, soothingly tried to calm her fears. "It
'
s all right, sweetheart. I won
'
t hurt you. I
'
ll take care of you. You don
'
t have to be afraid of me. Let me love you. It
'
s what we both want. Don
'
t fight me. Please.
"

"You don
'
t understand,
"
Annabelle cried out as his hand made a slow, proprietary sweep from breast to hip to thigh, setting off tremors of unbelievable longing all through her body. "I can
'
t take the chance.
"

"Hush,
"
he soothed. "I
'
ll give you everything you want. You
'
ll never have cause to regret that you came to me.
"

His masculine obtuseness was thoroughly upsetting. "Babies,
"
Annabelle wailed. "Can
'
t you understand? You could give me a baby.
"

He went still, then suddenly pulled back, an expression of arrested surprise on his face. It was evident from the slow, smoldering fire which kindled in his eyes that her warning had not acted upon him as she had hoped it would.

"A child,
"
he murmured, and his eyes, glittering with some new emotion, swept over her. "Don
'
t worry about it,
"
he soothed. "If you give me a whole brood of children, I
'
ll welcome every one of them.
"

Shock held her speechless. He took instant advantage. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, opening her to the full force of his passion, his tongue penetrating her with a thoroughness which left her trembling.

He raised himself slightly, and his hand brushed over the nest of curls which concealed the center of her femininity. Deliberately, he forced her knees wider, opening her body to his touch. Ripples of sensual heat washed through Annabelle. For a moment she panicked. In that instant of total vulnerability, she knew that there would be no turning back once he had discovered how eagerly her body craved his caresses.

"David, wait,
"
she choked out.

But even as she said the words, his probing fingers were becoming dewed with the hot feminine wetness which betrayed her arousal.

She heard his grunt of satisfaction and the sudden change in the tempo of his breathing. He stroked his fingers more deeply into her, and her own breath became suspended in her chest. She gasped, struggling to draw more air into her lungs.

"Oh David,
"
she cried softly, and turned her face into his neck.

Her cry of surrender seemed to inflame him to the point of frenzy. Hot, dark words of passion spilled from his lips as he positioned himself above her. Suddenly, aggressively, he forged into her. Annabelle went rigid with the shock of his possession. It had been so long since she had known a man
'
s passion that it was as if she were being made love to for the first time.

Sensing her physical distress, he went perfectly still, giving her time to adjust to the hard intrusion of his body. His lips coursed down, capturing her mouth in a lover
'
s kiss, reassuring and infinitely patient. The moment of discomfort passed, and Annabelle melted against him. Slowly, powerfully, Dalmar set the rhythm for their lovemaking.

Lost in a riot of unfamiliar sensations, she grasped at the last shreds of her control. But her body was beyond her, answering his blatant masculine demand, yielding to the age-old feminine hunger which cried out for fulfillment. Passion and fear warred within her. Her hands clutched convulsively at his straining arms.

Her anguished confusion transmitted itself to Dalmar. He did not hesitate to use her passion against her. Suddenly his hands slipped under her hips, fusing her body to his, overwhelming her with the urgency of his ardor.

It was his hoarse lover
'
s plea which sent her spinning out of control. "Give in to me! Hold me! Annabelle, please, love me!
"

Emotion melded with passion, and she responded to him on every level of her being. Her capitulation was sudden and complete. She locked her arms around his neck and offered him her lips. He took what she was offering and asked for more. The hard, rhythmic drive of his body warned her that he wanted her with him, there, at the end, when he made the leap to ecstasy. Such a thing had never before been demanded
of her.

"Let go,
"
he told her hoarsely. "Let go and trust me.
"

And for the first time in her life, Annabelle surrendered the total control of her body to her lover. The pleasure became unbearable. Her body tightened. Far back in her throat, small animal cries erupted and became choked. The effect on Dalmar was explosive. As her own body went hurtling over the edge, she felt the wracking shudders of his as he poured himself into her.

The descent to reality was sweet and languorous, accompanied by his wet, open-mouthed kisses and half-coherent, drowsy exclamations of wonder.

"Annabelle, you can
'
t know…
"

"I know.
"

"I never expected…
"

"Neither did I.
"

"You
'
re mine. I
'
ll never let you go.
"

"Hush, David. Go to sleep. We
'
ll talk about it later.
"

Possessively, he anchored her with one leg thrown over her thighs. She nestled against him and waited till the soft rise and fall of his chest told her that he had drifted into sleep. Careful not to waken him, she slid from beneath the comfort of his warm body.

She shrugged into her borrowed dressing gown and stood gazing at him as if mesmerized. In the aftermath of spent passion, a thousand disturbing thoughts rushed in to confront her. She knew a sense of shock at having put herself, once again and against all reason, into a position of vulnerability with a man.

The unnerving thought that to allow this man to make love to her would be the most dangerous thing she could do in her life came back in full force. A spasm of alarm went rippling through her. She tried to suppress it, but her sense of panic grew.

She found her clothes where she had left them and dressed with quick, economical
movements. The torn and blood-
spattered garments were the least of her worries now. In the gentleman
'
s press, she came upon a man
'
s cloak. It trailed the ground when she draped it round her shoulders, but she
deemed it adequate for her purpose.

Before she left, she checked on him. He was moving fitfully in his sleep, but the bandage on his arm was secure and dry. Carefully, she measured the drops of laudanum into a half glass of water and held his head as she forced him to drink. His eyes opened once, and he said her name. She whispered something reassuring which seemed to settle him.

Though the finger of dawn had yet to penetrate to the candlelit interior, outside the window, on the avenue of limes, the birds and their nestlings were already heralding the new day. Inside, the vast corridors of the Palais Royal were blanketed in an unnatural silence. Annabelle slipped past two English sentries who guarded one of the exits to the Rue de Rivoli. They made no move to stop her.

She drew a deep, steadying breath and moved off at a brisk pace in the direction of the Hotel Breteuil. In another hour she would be on her way to Calais. In another week, Paris would be a memory; and with luck, in another month, Dalmar would seem like a figment of her imagination.

By noon, her hired chaise was entering the Forest of Chantilly. Back in Paris, inventory was being taken in the wake of one of the worse melees to have broken out since the occupation of the city. Scores of innocent and not-so-innocent bystanders were injured. Of the dead, fourteen were Prussian officers and ten were either known Bonapartists or of the
garde du corps.
In one corner of the gardens, beneath a thicket of mimosa, the body of a French woman was discovered. Her throat had been slit. She was later identified as a young prostitute, the drawing card of the Maison d
'
Or. Her name was Monique Dupres.