Linna : Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 5)

by Jackie Ivie

  “It is a trifle hot,” Linna tipped her head to him and Cord gulped. “I guess I shouldn’t have danced two sets with you. It’s rather forward. I hope you don’t think that of me, Monsieur.”

  The slight drop of her shoulder tugged at him. Cord forced a smile, ignoring Birdie’s quick, bird-like motions as he filled more goblets and leaned forward in order to listen better.

  “Come, Miss Daniels. I’ve had my fill of refreshment. I long more for fresh air. Would you accompany me?” He kept one hand on her elbow, holding her ahead and in front of him again. He hoped she wouldn’t guess the reason.

  “I probably shouldn’t...but...you’re a gentleman, are you not?”

  “Most assuredly,” he replied.

  “I’ve never met a titled gentleman before,” she murmured, tilting her head to speak to him from over her shoulder as she put just the slightest emphasis on the word ‘titled’.

  “Ah. I have misled you. I have no title. I’m just plain Raoul Larroquette.”

  “You’re...some relation to the Marquis, perhaps?” She asked it in a light, flirtatious tone, but beneath it was a hint of purpose. He immediately guessed what it was and it stunned him.

  She was a gold-digger? It seemed impossible. With all the Daniels wealth? Unbelievable. She was very interested in his answer, however. Cord’s eyes narrowed. If she were as heartless as she sounded, he was holding a rein on himself for nothing. Maybe she might deserve what he was being paid to do after all.

  They’d reached the large double doors opening onto the verandah. They weren’t the only couple to take a bit of fresh air he noticed, taking it all in with a glance. There were two porch swings, both occupied; several long benches at the edge of the light, similarly occupied; and large shrubbery all about the enclosure. There were also at least three, stern-faced matrons sitting on one bench, effectively chaperoning the goings-on. He saw all of it. Years at the hands of the British fleet taught him that trick. You only got a moment or two to evaluate any situation. You didn’t waste them.

  “Have I said something...wrong?” she asked.

  Cord kept a hand atop the one she’d draped over his forearm and stepped off the porch with her. It wasn’t expected but the rain had broken, leaving it humid, hot and windless. The lush grass beneath his feet muffled every step. That was much better than mud.

  “Of course not,” he replied.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t be out here.”

  “You’ve a chaperone I need speak with?”

  She smiled slightly, as if to herself. “No. It’s nothing like that. I have no one...like that.”

  “Then what’s to stop us? There’s enough lighting and I can see several unfriendly matrons hovering about. You appear quite safe. I may not have a title, Mademoiselle, but I am still a gentleman, as I already said.”

  “Oh. I’ve offended you. Forgive me.”

  For some reason, she sounded like she was about to cry. Cord looked down at her and felt an insane desire to sweep her into his arms and take her with him and to hell with Fletcher, Daniels, and just about everything else.

  “It’s just—I just....” Her voice ended for a moment while she cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t want you to think of me as-as a woman...who...you know.”

  Oh, he very much thought of her in that manner. Exactly like that. He’d been paid to think it. Everything on his body was primed and ready to act on it. He sucked in on his cheeks, begged his mind to work, and started speaking. “I must have stated my case badly,” he started.

  “Your case?” She answered in a cold tone. Cord wondered what that meant.

  “Oui. My case. I may be new to the territory but I know the rules. A gentleman must have certain things to his credit.”

  “We’ve just met. And I shouldn’t stay out much longer. Our absence...will probably get noticed.”

  Probably? It was an absolute fact that they were being watched as they spoke. Cord knew it. He could just make out what was the shadowy figure of Rex Fletcher where he was silhouetted against a tree, not to mention the matrons who were whispering and pointing toward them. He’d been in the spotlight more often in his life than not. He knew exactly what it meant. Trouble. Fact was, if you got into the spotlight, you usually got trouble.

  Cord frowned. “You’ve a guardian I must speak with? I must think. By myself, I may not be enough.”

  “Enough...?”

  He could have sworn she caught her breath. He wondered if any woman received a proposal within minutes of meeting a man. It was the best he could think of to get her alone. With him. For an hour...maybe two. That’s all he’d need.

  He wondered why his tongue had grown so thick and his mind numb. It probably had to do with her nearness, the charms she was displaying over the tops of her bodice, and the intoxication of her smell. Or maybe it was his own self-imposed drought. Or a combination of all of it.

  He cleared his throat. “I may not be titled, but I’m a distant cousin of the Marquis…a very wealthy cousin.” He emphasized the last words.

  She drew back as if he’d slapped her. Cord could see the dismay on her face in the light from one of their lanterns. His frown deepened. She isn’t a gold-digger? Then he knew for certain by her very next words, said in a cold, clipped tone.

  “I find conversing with you further would be a waste of my time, Monsieur

  Larroquette. I wish you to know I am thoroughly insulted. Wealth such as you mention means little to me. I would like to go back inside now. Right now. I’ve had quite enough fresh air.”

  She was turning purposely back toward the steps. Cord caught her up by the waist and lifted her to him. With the same motion, he stepped beneath the shadow of a roof overhang. Her gasp was the only sound she made. He winced as he held her above the ground, waiting for her shaking to calm. He was amazed that she wasn’t screaming and pummeling him, as well as it looked like not one other person in the garden appeared to have noticed.

  “If you do not unhand me this moment, I’ll scream.”

  He didn’t doubt her. He bent his head toward the ear peeking from beneath a curl. “Not until you listen to me! Please listen. Please?”

  “Unhand me,” she repeated, in a quieter tone.

  “If I do, will you run from me?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You’ve insulted me, and now you man-handle me. Why shouldn’t I run screaming back through the doors?”

  “Because I’m begging you not to.”

  She was silent for so long, Cord wasn’t certain how to proceed. He was proving one thing for certain. He wasn’t equipped for flirting with a young, innocent woman. Not anymore. He was very adept at one thing, though: being on fire for her. Fletcher was obviously going to get his money’s worth out of this. Cord’s lips twisted bitterly at the thought.

  “Go on,” she said finally.

  Cord let the breath ease slowly from his body. She wasn’t going to scream and bring unwanted attention to him. He relaxed his grip on her, lowering her to stand in the enclosure he made about her with his arms. He was afraid she’d spot the tremor he was carefully controlling. Then he started speaking, saying the first thing that came to mind. “You must forgive my words. I said them wrong. I just—uh. You’re just—”

  She swiveled her head a bit, almost connecting his lips to her cheek, and his body’s response over-rode his mind, making his words a jumble of unfinished sentences. Cord fought desire and fought it hard. She had to feel his quaking. He wouldn’t be able to keep from ravishing her on the spot if she moved any closer to him. He had no idea he’d lost so much civility. He lifted his eyes above her head and blew a breath over the chestnut hair, watching a strand sway with it. He hoped his voice wouldn’t betray him. He cleared his throat. “I—I am not...good with words.”

  That was stupid, Cord, he told himself. Not good with words? That much was obvious.

  She giggled softly. His eyes went wide, his belly concave as he sucked for air, and only supreme will kept him from grabbing her to him. He k
new she’d spot his trembling now. It wasn’t possible to keep it hidden. He had to command his own arms not to grab her up. She twisted slightly and tipped her face up to him. Cord let the breath out and drew another ragged one in.

  “Go on,” she whispered.

  Dear God! Her breath is as sweet as the rest of her! Cord tormented himself with what she must taste like. He shook with it. He fought it. He gritted his teeth and endured it. Then he settled for moving his head from side to side to clear it, and for some reason words came to him.

  “I—I can’t describe it. I can’t think. I’ve never felt the like. I swear. I know I sound mad. How is such a thing possible, you’re asking? No more than I do, let me assure you. We’re strangers, and yet I...well, I feel like I have so little time! A dance isn’t enough time!”

  “For...what?” she whispered.

  He let out some of his pent-up breath. Words went with it. “I know my lone asset. That’s why I spoke of it. I have little to offer...save my wealth.”

  “Surely you jest.”

  The girl spun completely in his arms and looked up at him. Cord locked his hands together behind her back and forced his own body not to pull her fully against him. The thought of her softness pressing against him was more than unbearable. It was absolute torture. He was grateful it was shadowed and dim under the roof edge. He was afraid of what she might spot on his face. He probably looked like the animal he’d become.

  “Are you seeking compliments? Because if you are, you can march right back in there and find another female. This one is not listening!”

  “What?” He shook his head to clear it. She’d been speaking, but all he’d seen was her mouth moving. She had lips just made for kisses. She looked like she could give as good as she got, too. She began mouthing more words at him. Her lips glistened with them. A kiss from her wouldn’t be enough. It would be the spark to his inferno. He knew it. He’d thought of it often enough in the past eight weeks when nobody was looking. He’d pulled the locket from where it was kept against his belly flesh...gazed into it...and let his imagination go where his body couldn’t. He tipped his head forward, flexed his fingers against her back to bring her closer and very nearly made kissing her a reality.

  “...isn’t one of them in there that wouldn’t accept your attentions without so much as a pence to your name! I’ll have you know—”

  Her lips looked soft, dewy, and coated with honey....

  Cord went ramrod stiff. He barely caught the kiss before he made it fact. He didn’t believe he kept the tormented groan silent. He couldn’t just man-handle a kiss from her! Not now! Not with the audience they had. Why, if he behaved with that much barbarism she probably would scream. He wouldn’t survive the attention, either. There were bounties out on all of them. Cord turned his head aside, clenched his jaw, and suffered through one fragrance-filled breath after another. He wasn’t trembling anymore either. He was shaking in place. It didn’t seem possible that she hadn’t spotted it. He eased his fingers away from her back and twisted them into fists.

  “...why I’m certain you know all of this, too. Well?”

  She was waiting for an answer. Cord closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t any idea what she’d just asked. Know all of what? He repeated it to himself and was still at a loss.

  Fool! Imbecile! Dunce! Drat my tongue! Simpleton! Fool!

  The litany of words she was calling herself went on and on, over and over. Why did she lose her tongue every time she got angered? She never managed to curb it in time! She should be on her knees thanking God that Raoul had grabbed her to him as he had. Otherwise, she’d have stormed from him back into the ballroom and been completely and totally defeated. Imbecile!

  Although it seemed absolutely incredible, she could have sworn that this dream-man that she’d conjured into being was about to ask for her hand in marriage. She wouldn’t have to put part two into effect. She didn’t have to ruin what was left of her reputation. All she’d had to do was listen and stay silent. Instead, what had she done? Argued with him. Fool! Stupid, arrogant fool! Linna felt him still touching her waist, although his hands weren’t as restrictive as they’d been before. The man had such strength, it was impossible to fight. It was also making her feel more feminine and attractive than ever before. This wasn’t a man to run like a scared rabbit at mention of Ryan Daniels.

  Linna watched his jaw line above her as he stared at something over her head. He was the most amazing man she’d ever seen. He had to have the most handsome countenance of any man born. He had the body of a god. He just had to, or the gods had been cheated. He was gifted with an old and worthy name. And by his own admission, he possessed a fortune. What fool would turn any of that away? Even one that wasn’t desperate wouldn’t. Linna wondered what she could say now. He felt distant somehow. He was still holding her, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying it.

  She reached to touch his cheek and pull his face back to her. At the touch, he started.

  “Raoul?” she whispered, waiting until she had his glance back. She pulled in a deep breath for courage.

  “Oui?” he answered.

  “Do you—? I mean, is there some place—? I mean, is there some privacy...um...I—I mean, a suite of rooms? Do you have them for your use? Someplace....private?”

  Raoul’s mouth dropped open. Linna should have known he’d have perfect teeth, too. She blazed ahead.

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I just—um. I have something—. Uh...it’s something I have to ask you. You probably think this is terribly forward of me, but—.” Her voice faded. Linna blinked at the rise of tears. She hadn’t even cried at her own mother’s demise, had to start now? No. She refused. What a horrid state of affairs that would be. She looked away from his dazed expression. She couldn’t watch it one more heart-pounding moment.

  “I think we’ve stayed too long in the garden. This is what I think. Come.”

  His voice had changed. It had gotten deeper, sharper, and had a snarling kind of timbre to it as well. The path wavered in front of her eyes. Linna forced her feet to move, one in front of the other as she walked beside him. Her numbness was cracking. That was bad. Really bad.

  He wasn’t holding her closely in front of him as he had earlier either. She guessed why. She’d said the wrong thing, then she’d been too argumentative, and then she’d been too indiscreet and forward. She only hoped she could get back through the ballroom without anyone guessing at the depth of her misery.

  It was better to be numb.

  Much better.

  They were playing another dance tune as Raoul escorted her back through the doors. There wasn’t going to be an easy path to the entryway. She’d have to skirt about the edge. It looked like an acre she had to traverse. Linna moved her gaze to the wooden flooring they were walking across. She felt him stop. Now. She was supposed to bid him adieu and take her leave. She turned toward him and somehow managed to catch the sound at what was on his face. He had one side of his mouth lifted in a semi-snarl. It looked dangerous; lethal. That look started a shiver clear to the backs of her ankles. She tugged slightly at her hand, but then he surprised her completely by using it to pull her into the throng of dancers. Linna didn’t have the ability left to think as his left arm snaked about her again, bringing her close...closer. There was no time to evaluate it before he started swaying, gracefully moving them among the others. Linna watched the tight knot of his jaw before she got brave enough to move her gaze higher.

  He was twirling them with his eyes almost closed. She watched him through a silken blur. She’d never seen anything to compare. He had a feral passion about him that she’d never come across in her life. She was half-afraid and half-glorying in the idea that she might be on the receiving end of it.

  She was afraid to blink over the moisture in her eyes and watched his gaze sharpen on her. Linna gulped, smiled tremulously, and received his answer in the caress of the hand at the small of her back. Each of his fingers was played wide across
the material, using the motion to move her closer than any dance required. Linna found the velvet of his jacket comforting to lean against, and she did so with a sigh.

  The music ended, then Raoul was moving, walking her swiftly across the floor to the entranceway. Everyone parted for him, and she knew they were all watching. Linna didn’t have to check. If it had happened like this to anyone else, she’d have been watching, too. The entrance door loomed before them and then the marbled steps.

  “Have you a carriage?” he asked in a harsh voice, as he escorted her more swiftly down the steps than her shoes allowed. When she tripped he was there, lifting her effortlessly a few steps before setting her back on her feet. “Well?”

  Linna shook her head. She was too shocked and frightened to cry. She knew she was going to though. She was going to cry a tempest of weeping that would probably never end.

  “No?” His voice was harsher if such a thing were possible. Then he was pointing and motioning a hansom driver over. Linna looked down at the street then. She was afraid to look anywhere else.

  “Take her to the end of Bourbon Street - and wait. A quarter hour. There will be another coach. Put her in it, then leave. Ask no questions. Here.” Linna’s face probably mirrored the reaction as she watched Raoul flip a coin at the coachman, who grinned when he bit down on it. “Now, fetch your carriage.” The coachman turned and started running. Nobody said anything as he reached it, pulled himself into the seat, and turned it toward them.

  Then Raoul pulled Linna to him, stopping everything as he held her so tightly against him she felt every nuance, every enlarged and hardened feature that the ensemble he was wearing did little to mute. She was gasping, she was over-heated, she was shocked.

  And she was intrigued.

  He groaned as he pulled away, opened the carriage door, and lifted her onto the seat. “I cannot stay another moment with you. Not now. Not like this. I will meet with you at my private apartments. We’ll continue this there.”

  “I—I can’t go there,” Linna whispered.