Undone (28 page)

“Captain! Oh, Captain!”

Simon swore under his breath. A female voice behind him called to him.
Perfect. Another delay.

He turned and was surprised to see Marie Jaures and her young daughter, Monique.

Marie hurried toward him, holding her child’s hand. They stopped before him, and Marie smiled. It was the first time Simon had seen her smile since his return, since he gave her the news about Thomas’s death. His impatience melted away.

“Captain, I wish to thank you.”

“Thank me, Marie? For what?”

“For the school. For encouraging the girls to attend. Monique is a pupil there now.”

The child’s shy smile easily elicited a grin from him. He crouched down to her eye level.

“Is that so, Monique? Do you attend school now?”

Monique nodded. “Yes, Captain. I am learning to read and do numbers. Mademoiselle Angelica says I am very smart.”

He chuckled. “She would most definitely be correct.”

“She is very kind. We all like her. She’s as beautiful as a queen.”

Simon looked over his shoulder at Angelica. “She is indeed,” he agreed softly, and stood up.

“Captain,” Marie said. “Being part of the school has helped Monique with her grief. And in doing so, it has helped me as well. I cannot believe we have such a wonderful teacher for the children.”

He felt tremendous pride over Marie’s praise of Angelica.

“It was Angelica’s idea to encourage the girls.”

“She is an incredible woman. I mean, she is a
noble
. Yet she is so kind and considerate toward us.” Marie shook her head. “Whoever heard of a woman born into privilege lowering herself to teach the children of peasants?”

Simon’s smile died. He glanced over at Angelica. She was laughing with the women around her. Marie was right. Angelica could be so much more than she was. Her exalted bloodlines held her in esteem in society, apart from the common masses. She could be married to an Aristo and her children, heirs to wealth, title, and power.

“She is indeed extraordinary. Good afternoon, Captain.”

Simon murmured a good-bye before he turned on his heel and strode toward Angelica.

The haze from last night had lifted. Ruthlessly, he pushed away pangs of regret. His plan was in sharp focus once more, and he wouldn’t allow soft feelings to upend them. She was out of his reach. Not his to keep. She was his mistress. A temporary one. Her life was in France. And he was going to see she was returned all that had been taken from her.

But that was later.

Now, and for the next few weeks, he had to get over the fever known as Angelica de Castel.

*****

Sabine poked Angelica. “He approaches.”

Angelica turned around. Her heart flip-flopped. Dressed in a light gray doublet and dark breeches, Simon approached her, his blue eyes shining seductively at her. Just watching him walk toward her made her insides quiver.

She couldn’t hold back her smile.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” His rich voice tickled down her spine.

Sabine and Gabriella returned his greeting.

Stop staring and smiling. Respond.
“Good afternoon,” she said, a little too breathless.

She’d spent the morning in class suppressing yawns and secret smiles. Simon had given her little rest last night, but she hadn’t minded in the least. Last night had been magic. No sonnet could come close to describing how it had felt to be loved through the night and into the morning by this man. She had more nights like last night to look forward to. To become closer to Simon. There was still plenty of time. Last night had been an excellent start. Most definitely something to build on.

“I have been looking for you,
chérie
.”

“Oh?” God help her, she was smiling up at him again. The fact that Sabine and Gabriella, not to mention anyone in the square, were openly observing them didn’t matter a whit at the moment.

“
Mademoiselle la Comtesse!
”

Angelica’s head snapped around.
Oh dear God, no.
Rushing toward her was Madame Blanche, waving and grinning.

“Mademoiselle la Comtesse!”

Angelica mentally cringed. Sweet Madame Blanche was the only one who refused to acknowledge Angelica without reference to her station of birth. Last night at the feast, she’d gushed about it. No matter how many times Angelica had asked to be called by her first name, Madame Blanche insisted on “
showing the proper respect to a noble lady
.”

Madame Blanche’s “respect” was overdone, in her well-meaning way, and it was about to be demonstrated in front of Simon. She hadn’t announced her name yesterday to be treated differently. She’d done it only to show Simon that she was strong and unashamed. Now she wished she could roll the name back onto her tongue and swallow it. The last thing she wanted was to have something so meaningless to her as nobility emphasized before Simon when he’d shown such sensitivity on the subject.

Silently, she prayed that today Madame Blanche would approach her and not—the older woman stopped, lowered her head, and sank low—
curtsy
. Mentally, she groaned.

Quickly pulling the woman upright, Angelica squeezed her hands and said, “Good afternoon, Madame.”

Madame Blanche clasped her hands before her ample bosom. Heaven help her. Why did the woman have to gaze at her as though she was looking upon a deity?

“Oh, Mademoiselle la Comtesse, how good to see you.” She tried to curtsy again, but Angelica quickly secured an arm around Madame Blanche’s shoulders, halting her intent.

“So good to see you too. My, what a lovely dress, Madame.” Angelica peeked up at Simon.

He watched and smiled, yet she noted, disheartened, that the smile on his lips didn’t reflect in his eyes.

“Why, thank you. It’s so kind of you to say so. You know, I’ve made gowns for many important women in France. Women of the aristocracy, just like yourself, wo—”

“Madame Blanche.” Angelica abruptly stopped the woman’s flow of words and grabbed Gabriella’s hand. “Madame Dragani is in need of new gowns. Isn’t that so, Gabriella?”

“Ah…yes! Yes, it is.” She wanted to kiss her friend for her assistance.

“Madame Dragani?” Madame Blanche looked around as though noticing the others for the first time. “Oh my, forgive my manners.” She was quick to greet Simon, Sabine, and Gabriella. “How wonderful, Madame Dragani! Please, come this way. I shall attend to you.” The older woman gestured toward her shop.

Angelica and her two friends exchanged knowing nods. She was happy to see them walk away with the dear dressmaker.

Madame Blanche turned. “Oh, Mademoiselle la Comtesse, you must come too. I have set aside my finest fabrics for you.” She raised a hand, halting Angelica’s response. “Now, I know Suzette has made you lovely gowns. She is indeed talented with a needle, but I would ask for the honor of making you a gown. My gift to you.” The woman curtsied low.

Angelica briefly closed her eyes, wishing Madame Blanche wouldn’t continue to stand on unwanted ceremony. She felt Simon place his hand at the small of her back. The thrill of his touch made her insides dance. She wanted to be alone with him. She didn’t want to discuss gowns, and she certainly didn’t want the constant references to her class—a class she’d never really belonged to—in front of Simon. She couldn’t leave dear Madame’s presence fast enough.

“Madame Blanche, you are too generous, but—”

“Oh, I insist! A lovely gown for our island’s exalted citizen,” she gushed. “An Aristo!”

Dear God, could the woman not be silent? She felt Simon remove his hand from her back. She stiffened, not wishing to see what was reflected in his eyes. Then he brushed his fingers against the nape of her neck before he rested his warm palm there.

Leaning in, he said softly in her ear, “It is just a gown. Let her make it for you. It will make her very happy.”

He was right, of course. Why was she refusing? It was only making matters worse, and Madame Blanche had only good intentions.

Angelica smiled. “I accept your lovely gift. Thank you, Madame.”

“Oooh!” She clapped her hands with glee. “Come. I shall take your measurements.”

“Not today, Madame.” Simon surprised Angelica with his answer. She looked up at him questioningly. Returning her gaze, he said, “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Angelica seized the opportunity of escape Simon had just created for her. “Yes! Tomorrow would be better.”

Madame Blanche looked slightly disappointed. “Certainly. Tomorrow it is, then. I shall make you the finest gown—”

“You shall make her four fine gowns,” Simon interjected.

“
Four?
” Angelica and Blanche asked in chorus.

“Yes. One will be a gift from you, Madame, and the other three, gifts from me. Only the finest fabrics are to be used ‘
befitting her station of birth
.’”

“Oh, Captain, of course. Until tomorrow!” She curtsied for Angelica one last time before rushing back to her shop.

Angelica turned to Simon, frowning.

“I don’t require gowns ‘
befitting my station of birth
.’ I don’t desire excesses. Nor do I need pampering. Nobility and its trappings do not hold importance to me.”

The last thing Simon wanted was to argue about this now. He simply smiled, indicating a state of cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “What if I wish to pamper you for the simple pleasure I would derive from it? I am hardly poor. I can afford to buy you some gowns.”

He saw she was about to protest further and cupped her cheek. Drawing his thumb lightly over her lips, he quelled her words. “Angelica, although you would be stunning barefoot, wearing sackcloth, I enjoy seeing you in finery. Allow me to buy them for you. Like Madame Blanche, it would make me happy.” But that was not the entire truth. He wanted her to have gowns just as an Aristo would. She would need them when she returned to her proper life.

And there was a part of him that wanted her to have something from him. He couldn’t help wondering if she’d think of him years from now. It shouldn’t matter whether she did.

He shoved the thoughts away, unsettled by them and the emotions warring inside him. He had to be detached—reminding himself why he’d agreed to her arrangement in the first place. To purge her from his system.

He had to believe what he felt for her was no more than a mere infatuation. Eventually, as with the others, he’d have his fill. Then he could go on with his life. And she could do the same. In France. Within her rightful social circle.

“I shall accept your gift only because it makes you happy,” she said, “but there are things I seek that would please me.”

He shouldn’t ask; the warm look in her eyes gave him pause. “What do you seek?” The words left his mouth nonetheless.

She stepped forward and surprised him when she slipped her arms around his waist—right in the middle of the village for everyone to see. Rising up onto the balls of her feet, she brought her mouth close to his ear and said, “
You
.”

The single word and her display of public affection left him feeling as if warm, sweet nectar had just melted over his insides.

Before he realized it, his arms had encircled her, and his cheek rested against her silky curls. He couldn’t bring himself to ask if she meant his body or…more. Either way, he didn’t want to know the answer.

Noticing a number of onlookers, remembering himself, his plan, and his lunch arrangement, Simon murmured near her ear. “I have a surprise for you. I’ve cleared my commitments for the rest of the day, and if you are free, perhaps I can interest you in sharing a picnic with me.”
Dieu
, he needed this time with her. Time and overindulgence. That was the remedy for breaking this fever.

She pulled back instantly. Delight danced in her eyes. He fought back the urge to pull her to him again.

“How wonderful. Where?”

Her smile was contagious. “Somewhere special.”

“More surprises, Simon?” She took his hand in hers. “If you keep this up, I shall become spoiled and unbearably demanding.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “I have no problem indulging your every carnal whim,” he felt constrained to say, forcing himself to keep their involvement within the boundaries that were comfortable for him—sexual in nature only.

He was glad he had the entire afternoon and into the night to spend with her. Most of all, he was grateful for the weeks that still lay ahead before he’d return to face France and Fouquet.

Time would be his greatest ally. It was time to focus on decadent pleasures, to focus on his plan and indulge in this delectable woman.

Chapter Twenty

The sound of rushing water pouring over gray rock mingled with their quickened breaths and soft moans. Lying on a blanket near the natural pool, their lunch now forgotten, his doublet and some of her clothing scattered around them, Simon realized he was a drowning man.

Drowning in the woman under him.

He sat up abruptly, his breathing labored, overwhelmed by the intensity between them. And the foreign, unrelenting emotions overtaking him.

He dragged a hand over his face.
Dieu
. He needed a moment.

His last thought had sent him sitting bolt upright.

The thought that he would not let her go. Ever.

He’d brought Angelica to his favorite spot. He’d ordered that the picnic be set up so that they could enjoy the scenic waterfalls and the pool beneath it, an oasis that was secluded by trees and lush foliage, and she’d been moved by the gesture. A small voice inside him chastised him for the error. He should limit what they shared to his bedroom. But when he’d seen how pleased he’d made her, the small voice had been subdued by the contentment that welled up inside him.

Simon heard her sit up.

“Simon, what is amiss?”

Her chestnut-colored hair was down in long, soft curls. Having coaxed the clothes from her sweet form, he had her down to her chemise. The veil of cloth hid little from his hungry view. However, there was more than physical attraction affecting him.

He beat the emotions back, and glanced toward the waterfalls.