Arms of a Stranger

by Danice Allen

  “A rogue with a mission.”

  “A mission?”

  “To loosen these damned buttons,” he said wryly. Bemused, intoxicated by her consuming desire for him, she watched him apply himself with single-minded intensity to the task of undoing her buttons. It occurred to her then that he was rather adept at the procedure, as if he undressed women on a regular basis. The idea made her feel rather prickly. Then, unbidden, unwelcome, the image of his mistress loomed up in her mind. He had both gloves off now, and he bent his head to kiss her wrist. Filled with unexpected heartache, she pulled her hand away.

  Half-amused, totally frustrated, Lucien looked into her face. “Cher? What’s wrong now?” His lips tilted in a rueful smile. “Are you feeling shy?”

  Anne bit her lip, averted her gaze. “You have a mistress.”

  There was a pause, a sigh. He lifted her chin again, forcing her to look at him. “I had a mistress. I don’t anymore.”

  Anne’s heart soared. “You don’t?”

  “Not since I kissed you, cher. Your passion made everyone else pale in comparison.” He smiled, his eyes full of teasing affection. “That night in the cabin was the most exciting performance I’ve ever experienced.”

  Pleased but disbelieving, Anne felt warmth creep into her cheeks. She dropped her gaze. “Oh, Lucien, how can you tell such lies? She is experienced in the ways of pleasing a man, and I’m just—”

  He took both her hands and spoke earnestly. “You’re just the most passionate, desirable, beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Something stirred in me the minute I first saw you on the deck of the Belvedere. I wanted to make love to you before I even knew your name.”

  She shook her head, amazed, immensely flattered. But a tiny voice inside said, He only speaks of desire, never of love. She turned away.

  “Cher, don’t you want me anymore? Are you no longer interested now that you know I’m just plain Lucien?”

  She couldn’t let him believe that. She placed her fingertips on his firm jaw. “I don’t believe you can ever be just plain anything, Lucien. You are a good man, an extraordinary man to have risked so much to help others.”

  “But I need to be myself.” His tone became grim, emphatic. “I don’t intend to keep up this charade much longer. But first—”

  “But first you’re going to deal with Bodine.”

  He was surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “You can’t bear to let the most blatant abuser of slaves off scot-free. Bodine needs to be stopped, and he ought to be punished. How are you going to accomplish this, Lucien?”

  “That is only for me to know. I won’t endanger you again by including you, even in the smallest way.” He touched the faint scar at her temple.

  “But Lucien, I want to—”

  He laid a quieting finger over her lips. “Shhh, ma petite. We have so little time together tonight, I don’t want to spend it discussing Bodine. I want to spend it making love to you.”

  She trembled, but not with fear. “In … in a carriage?”

  “Anne, you seem to think the thing impossible,” he said, laughing. “Believe me, where there is sufficient motivation, anything is possible. And sometimes the most unexpected places bring the most pleasure.”

  Convinced, Anne wrapped her arms around his neck, twining her fingers behind it. She set aside her doubts, her worries. She might never see Lucien again, but she would take whatever she could get now, whether he loved her or not … She answered him by placing her mouth on his.

  He groaned and pulled her into his arms and onto his lap, burying his face in her hair. “Anne, I never thought I could desire a woman as I do you. God help me, I’m obsessed with you.” His lips trailed down her neck, leaving behind a shivery path of pleasure.

  She turned her face to his questing kisses. His hands roamed over her back. Their kisses became deeper, more intense. She was blissfully lost to all reason and thought.

  She shifted, straining to get closer, and nearly slipped off his lap. “This skirt!” she complained, grabbing his shoulders to keep from sliding to the floor. She’d never been so thoroughly disgusted by the dictates of fashion. Yards and yards of alpaca were an encumbrance to lovemaking!

  Lucien laughed, caught her waist, and set her firmly on his lap again. “Don’t worry, cher. I won’t let you fall. And as for this trifling barrier…” He started gently tugging on the skirt, pulling it out from under her till her chemise and silk drawers were the only thing between her bottom and his lap. Her skirt billowed out on all sides of her, like a full-blown ivory rose.

  “Straddle me,” he ordered, his voice husky. Wide-eyed, curious, and aroused, Anne did exactly as he told her. Now she faced him. There was no mask, no darkness to obscure his beloved features, or to hide the desire in his eyes. With her open palms braced against his broad chest they kissed.

  She’d almost forgotten how delirious his kisses could make her feel, how joyful. Their tongues tangled, dipped, and explored. Their lips roamed over each other’s faces, throats. She kissed his beard-stubbled jaw.

  He kissed the smooth ridge of her collarbone, then moved lower, lower, till his lips and tongue played along the lace ruching of her low-cut neckline. His hands slid up slowly from her waist till they cupped her breasts from underneath. Anne instinctively leaned into his palms. When his thumbs came up and flicked both nipples, she moaned with pleasure.

  “Oh, Lucien, how I wish … how I wish…”

  “Say it, Anne. Say it.” He bent and buried his face in her cleavage. Her hands tunneled through his hair, her eyes closed, her mind tilting, reeling.

  “’Tis immodest to say it,” she whispered, half-gasping, half-laughing.

  “Nothing is immodest between lovers.”

  “I just wish I could be naked, lying next to you, feeling your body against mine. And I wish I could look at you in the light. All of you.”

  “Will you be satisfied tonight to see only part of me?” he asked tenderly. “If the carriage was stopped for some reason, I couldn’t bear to have you exposed to the greedy eyes or the sordid speculations of others. But at least this is more than either of us was granted that first night in the cabin.”

  “And more than I ever dreamed possible when I left the house this evening,” she agreed. “Just let me feel your bare chest, Lucien. Let me open your shirt.”

  She gently pushed his hands away as he started to undo the buttons of his vest and then his ruffled shirt. She wanted the pleasure all for herself. And as Lucien had done to her, she was going to make him wait.

  She felt his eyes on her as she intently, slowly undid each button. His hands glided up and down her waist, teasing the undersides of her breasts, but not cupping them fully as he had before. He, too, was playing a teasing game. Soon Anne was stepping up the pace, too eager to hold back.

  Finally she was able to slide her hands inside the opened shirt. His chest was hard with muscle and lightly dusted with soft swirls of black hair. Her palms tingled on contact, the thrill of touching him traveling up her arm and into every nerve of her body. His nipples were small and wine-colored. She lowered her head and lathed the taut buds with the tip of her tongue. He groaned and moved his hands up and over her breasts, squeezing gently, pressing her erect nipples between thumb and forefinger.

  “Now my turn, cher,” he growled as he undid the few buttons at the front of Anne’s gown and carefully eased down the bodice to expose her breasts. Anne couldn’t control her breathing, her chest heaved up and down. At first he only looked at her; he didn’t touch.

  “You’re so beautiful, Anne,” he whispered, his own breath seemingly suspended. “Your skin is so white, and your nipples are so richly tinted—like a damask rose.”

  If she was beautiful, that was good, because she wanted to be beautiful for Lucien. Only for him. If he didn’t touch her soon, she’d go mad.

  He touched her. His hands kneaded her breasts, his clever fingers teased her nipples, and t
hen his head lowered, and he suckled at each breast till Anne knew the meaning of madness.

  “Lucien,” she pleaded huskily. “Now, Lucien. Love me now.”

  He moved her onto the seat next to him while he undid his trousers. Anne watched with unmaidenly interest as his erection sprang free, full and hard. He pulled her atop him. She eagerly straddled his thighs and pushed her skirts out of the way. Lucien reached under her, found the slit in her drawers, and sheathed himself in the tight, moist channel of her womanhood.

  Anne was nearly overwhelmed with feeling. To be literally filled with the man she loved was the closest thing to heaven on earth she could imagine. Tears of joy welled in her eyes. Their gazes met and locked. “I love you, Lucien,” she whispered, her throat tight with emotion. “I love you.”

  He began to move. He plunged deep, then pulled back, again and again, setting a rhythm that Anne eagerly, mindlessly followed.

  Tension built, then exploded suddenly, as wave after wave of intense pleasure flooded through her. Lucien shuddered against her at the same moment, whispering her name like a benediction as his seed flooded her womb.

  Spent and blissfully lethargic, she laid her head against his chest and listened to the strong beat of his heart as it gradually slowed. She was content, at home in the arms of the man she loved.

  Later, their clothes restored to respectability, and with Anne sitting beside him on the seat with her head resting against his shoulder, Lucien picked up his cane and rapped three times on the ceiling. The carriage slowed, turned, and headed back to town.

  “Must we return so soon?” asked Anne, grown drowsy in the aftermath of their lovemaking, lulled by the gentle rocking of the carriage. “I feel so safe in here with you, hidden from the world, as if we were encased in a warm cocoon.”

  He turned and caught her chin in the palm of his hand, tilting her face so he could see her. He looked troubled. “I wish it were possible to stay hidden away with you, but I can’t. And I can’t promise you—”

  He didn’t finish. He sighed and turned away, his hand falling heavily to his lap.

  She would not press him. She did not want false promises or forced words of love. She prayed that someday he would give his heart willingly. She hoped he was holding back because the dangerous masquerade of Renard was still very much part of his life, and not because of personal doubts about his feelings for her. When he held her and made love to her, she felt truly cherished. She hoped she wasn’t imagining such emotions on his part.

  “Lucien, when will I see you again?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “There is a masquerade ball at Rosedown tomorrow night. I haven’t wanted to go, but Reggie says we’re under an obligation to the Bouviers. They introduced me around town when I first came to New Orleans. I think they’re a bunch of high-stickers and dreadfully snobbish and dull, but I shan’t mind going if I know you’ll be there. Will you be there?”

  Still frowning, Lucien said nothing.

  “What’s wrong? I understand if you have other plans.”

  “No, I do plan to be there. I’ll be in costume, but I suppose you’d recognize me in any masquerade by now.” He smiled briefly, but was soon frowning again. “I’m not staying past supper.”

  Anne sensed that this information was all he intended to impart. She suspected that he had business to attend to at the ball, and perhaps after the ball, and he had no intention of revealing the nature of that business. But Anne knew with gut-wrenching clarity that Lucien’s late-night business was with Bodine.

  Her heart sank. So soon! The confrontation, the danger was coming so soon! If Lucien’s plan—whatever it was—was successful, perhaps he would be able to commit himself to her. But if something went wrong … She squeezed his arm, cuddling closer. She couldn’t bear it if something happened to him. He had become her life.

  “What, Anne? What’s the matter?” He peered tenderly into her face. She forced a smile.

  “Nothing’s the matter. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all. Tomorrow night seems like a lifetime away.”

  He squeezed her arm and spoke intently. “Anne, even though we’ll be able to see each other, we’ll have to be very discreet. You’ll have to pretend to dislike me. You must tell me now if you won’t be able to do that.”

  “I’ve had lots of practice.”

  He groaned. “I’m not sure when we’ll be able to be together like this again.”

  Or if we’ll ever be able to be together again, thought Anne, her heart filled with doubt. But she only said, “Soon, Lucien. Soon.”

  He did not reply, and the carriage trundled down the road toward home and an uncertain future. More than ever, Anne knew just how much she would lose if things did not go as planned. In Lucien’s arms, she’d known ecstasy and contentment. And because of these blissful feelings, she also knew fear.

  Chapter 18

  Katherine met them at the door of the Grimms mansion. They had said their good-byes in the carriage, so with one last kiss on the cheek for Anne and a warm handclasp for Katherine, Lucien turned and walked away. Anne watched till he boarded the carriage and waved from the window.

  Katherine seemed eager to get Anne inside, muttering something about the servants. They went directly to Katherine’s bedchamber, neither of them saying a word. When the door closed behind them, they both spoke at once.

  “Aunt Katherine, I had no idea you were in league with Renard!”

  “Anne, when did you figure out that Lucien was Renard?”

  They laughed, more from a release of tension than from real mirth.

  “First things first,” said Katherine, moving to a table holding two crystal decanters. “Sit down, child, and let me pour you a glass of water. Or would you rather have brandy? I should say you deserve a stiff shot of something.”

  Anne sank into a wing chair next to her aunt’s massive mahogany bed. “A strong cup of tea sounds heavenly, but I suppose the servants are all abed.”

  “Yes, and I’m glad they are. I hope none of them saw you return to the house with Lucien. Your reputation would be in tatters.” Katherine poured a snifter of brandy and carried it to Anne. “Here. Drink up. It will help you sleep.”

  Anne took a sip of the brandy, finding the immediate effect rather soothing. She had thought herself relaxed, but she hadn’t realized how jangled her nerves had become since leaving the secure circle of Lucien’s arms.

  “Oh, Aunt Katherine, what difference does it make about my reputation? Why worry about that now? Everything has changed, and will change even more. Lucien wants to end his career as Renard as soon as he takes care of one last matter of business.” She took another sip of brandy. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

  “Yes.” Katherine frowned. “Bodine. I told Lucien that he should feel no responsibility to take care of that dreadful man before ending his career as Renard. He’s already done enough, and now that it’s become obvious that there’s a traitor within our small ranks, it’s dangerous for him to continue the work.”

  Anne leaned forward, setting her glass on a bedside table. “Surely you don’t think Lucien is in more danger than he was two weeks ago.”

  “I don’t know, Anne. This last coup will be risky, but if there’s anyone who can pull it off, it’s Lucien.”

  Anne stood up and paced the floor. “You know the details of the plan, don’t you?” She stopped in front of her aunt and faced her. “You know the time, the place, and the strategy. Lucien won’t tell me anything, but you can tell me!”

  Katherine shook her head firmly. “No, actually I don’t know the details. Lucien is wisely keeping most things to himself these days, relying on very few people to help him. And even if I did know, I certainly wouldn’t tell you. I don’t want you involved!”

  Anne took hold of her aunt’s forearms. “You must know something! And can’t you see, Aunt Katherine, I am involved. I’ve been very much involved since that night at
the cabin with him. I love him so much, and if I just knew a little of what his plans were, if I weren’t so utterly in the dark, I wouldn’t worry as much.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Anne. Either way, you’re going to worry. Besides, Lucien and I both know you too well to believe you can be told the details of his plan without somehow involving yourself. The best thing you can do for Lucien at this point is to stay out of the way. For once you must simply remain safely at home.”

  Frustrated, Anne resumed her pacing. “Have you and Lucien forgotten that I was useful to him when he met up with those bounty hunters? Things might have turned out quite differently if I’d stayed at home that night.”

  “Yes, you might have been killed if that bounty hunter’s aim had been a scant inch more precise.”

  “Nonsense,” Anne said with a huff, crossing her arms stubbornly. “What about Lucien? He might have been killed if—”

  “Lucien is resourceful and clever,” Katherine interrupted. “If you hadn’t been there to warn him, something else would have alerted him to the danger.” She moved dose to Anne and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m not diminishing what you did, Anne. It was brave. And it probably did save Lucien’s life. But don’t you see that you’re a distraction to him now? Let him do what he needs to do, so he’ll finally be free to pursue some happiness for himself. And—if my guess is correct—for you, too.”

  Anne did not miss the wistful tone in her aunt’s voice. “Oh, Aunt Katherine, I’m so selfish! I haven’t even asked about Uncle Reggie. Is he feeling better?”

  Katherine sighed deeply and moved to the window, staring out into the balmy, black November night. “He’s sleeping, but he’s restless. James gave him some laudanum.” She turned from the window and made a weak smile. “If Reggie allowed himself to be dosed, he must feel awful.”

  Anne crossed the room and took her aunt’s surprisingly cold hands, chafing them between her two warm ones. “You care for him very much,” she said softly.

  “So much, Anne, that I’m prepared to leave my beloved New Orleans if there’s a chance that Reginald and I can be together.”