“I wish to know about Marguerite. The woman.”
He lifted his head. “Pardon?”
She hadn’t meant to ask quite so abruptly, but she was dying to know about his past. About him. If he hadn’t been distracting her, she would have broached the subject with more finesse. Judging from the look in his eyes, she’d touched upon a sensitive subject.
“Someone in the village told me it was your mother’s name—” She arrested her words when he rolled off her. Lying on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow again, suddenly pensive, creating a distance between them even though he was within reach.
She wished she could take back the words, but they were out there now, looming between them. Rolling onto her side, she too propped herself up on her elbow to face him.
“Simon, I didn’t mean to upset you. You named the island after her. She must have been very special—”
“She was.” He surprised her by answering when he looked as though he would not. “She was the most beautiful woman in our village. As beautiful as this island, with eyes as blue as the sky above it and as warm in spirit as the balmy weather found here.”
“When did she…die?” she asked ever so softly.
“When I was eight. In childbirth. My brother, born then, died one week later.”
“I’m sorry…”
“You would be the only one in your class who would be. No noble would care in the least about the death of a young peasant woman, a fisherman’s wife, or her baby.”
She understood the pain behind those words. It shamed her to learn over the years the indifference her class felt toward those born to the common masses. “Your father was a fisherman, then. What was he like?”
His jaw tightened. “Heartless and cold. In his miserable existence, he never showed affection or consideration to his wife or his only son. The happiest times were when my father was out at sea and it was just my mother and I.” A rueful smile formed on his mouth. “She was a dreamer. A wonderful storyteller. She couldn’t read a word, but she had the greatest imagination. She inspired me to reach for more out of life rather than to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. “One day, a year later, after a terrible storm, he didn’t return.”
She hated the pain he’d suffered as a boy, knowing he’d only given her a glimpse of it. Simon had been all of nine when he was orphaned. She understood, all too well, what it was like to find yourself young, alone, impoverished. “What did you do then?”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “I starved a little more each day until one day I found a man who gave a poor boy a new life.” Finally he looked at her and pulled her into his arms. She returned his embrace, resting her cheek on his shoulder, holding him tightly.
“I have never lain in bed with a beautiful woman and discussed my past.”
She looked into his eyes. He brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “There is nothing of interest in my family. Peasant begot peasant. No duke, count, marquis. Common. Ordinary.”
“Common?” She pushed at his chest and sat up. “Is it common for the son of a fisherman to live in this fashion?” She gestured to his chamber. “It is common to settle for your lot in life. It is not common to have the courage to try to change your destiny.”
He studied her quietly before he sat up too. “Destiny can be capricious—not at all within one’s control.”
“You’ve created your destiny, Simon, and along the way you have bettered the lives of those around you.” He made a sound as though he scoffed at the idea. It shocked her. “These people here adore you. You should have been a fisherman, but instead you are a commander of the king’s ships. You have done great things with your life.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done in my life. Nothing comes without a price.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“What torments you, Simon?” she asked boldly. Something briefly flickered in his eyes, and then he hid it behind a more carnal gaze.
He pressed her back onto the bed, his warm body covering hers. “Not getting enough of you torments me.” He gave her a long, luscious kiss that warmed her blood.
“Chérie, whatever time we have together, we will enjoy each other…extensively; yet I won’t do anything to complicate our situation. This is an interlude of bliss. It cannot be more. You are a noble.”
“Nobility means nothing.”
“You are wrong. It means everything. But enough of this.” He kissed her again, his tongue giving hers slow, swirling caresses. Gently, he stroked the curve of her breast and murmured, “If your father were alive, he’d have me hanged from the tallest branch for doing what I’ve done to you in this bed. For touching his noble daughter with my common hands.”
“I love what you’ve done to me in this bed.” She would never regret it.
He smiled. “And I love doing it to you, far too much.” He gave her neck a love bite. She sucked in a sharp breath. He dipped his head and sucked her tender nipple into his mouth. Closing her eyes, she moaned and wrapped her arms around him.
Time. It was what she needed in order to impress upon him that he was making too much of their different social class.
But was there enough time left?
Chapter Nineteen
Simon entered his home the next morning. He looked up the stairs and smiled. The thought of Angelica up there in his bed quickened his heart.
Hoping she was still fast asleep, he began to climb the stairs. Not wishing to look like a madman taking the stairs two at a time at full speed, he forced himself not to be transparent about his eagerness to see her. Even if he didn’t race, his mind did. Ideas of how to wake her ran through his thoughts and thickened his cock.
He couldn’t stop his grin.
Reluctantly, he’d left her in deep slumber to attend an early meeting with Jules and some of the other men. However, Simon had found it impossible to concentrate on the mill’s construction while memories of last night still hummed through his mind and body. Walking out of the hut on the opposite side of the island, he ignored Jules’s knowing grin, as well as the hidden smiles Simon sensed from the others. Smiles they wouldn’t dare to show.
He was no stranger to a night of carnal pleasures, but he’d never had a night like last eve.
Never had he known such soul-satisfying sex before.
They’d made love twice on his bed before they rose to dine on the food Assunta had set out for them. Her sweet smiles from across the table had touched him, while her sensual green eyes and enticing pink mouth had beguiled him. He’d barely allowed her to eat her meal when he’d reached his breaking point and had lowered himself to his knees before her chair. He’d pulled open her dressing gown, aroused her to a fiery pitch and, with her legs wrapped around his waist, buried the entire length of his ravenous cock into her sweet sex.
Later, together with him in his tub, adorably shy at the notion of bathing together, she had nonetheless allowed him the pleasure of washing every appealing curve and dip on her body. He’d teased and aroused her until the water had become a cool contrast against their heated bodies. They had barely made it to the bed when she had welcomed him inside her with a tender eagerness that was uniquely hers.
Simon reached the last step.
He should have been exhausted this morning, but instead he felt exhilarated. And he wanted her again.
He strode purposefully toward his chambers.
Last night, he’d told her about his past when he’d always been tightlipped about offering women personal information in bed. It was wrong to do so for many reasons, not the least of which was that it left a false impression—that there was more than just a physical connection. But there was something about her that inspired the desire to confide in her—a level of intimacy that was new to him.
And he was determined to blame his slip and his present eagerness on the knee-buckling desire he had for his moonlight angel.
A garment hit him in the face.
He heard female gasps. Pulling the article off his head, he found Assunta, Marta, and Suzette staring at him, horrified.
Suzette, who stood closest to him, was the first to find her voice and begin apologizing. Marta and Assunta, standing near his bed, quickly followed suit. The three women were speaking at the same time. He’d no idea what they were saying, catching partial phrases here and there.
“…I tossed the dress to Suzette—”
“—trying to clean up…”
Looking around his chamber, he was struck speechless. His bed was empty. Angelica was gone. But her presence filled his room.
In fact, her things were everywhere.
Gowns were tossed on his bed, on chairs, on the floor. Undergarments were sprinkled in here and there. Shoes, no pair together, were also scattered all over the rugs. It was as though the entire contents of the trunk he’d ordered moved into his room were at the moment emptied all over it.
“What… Where is Angelica?” he asked, surprised over the condition of his once personal space.
“She left for the schoolhouse, Captain,” Suzette answered.
Marta stepped forward. “She was in a great hurry this morning, running a bit late for school. We couldn’t find some of her things…”
He looked at Marta, utterly baffled. Couldn’t find her things? They were all over the room.
Assunta spoke up. “She couldn’t locate the matching garments a lady needs, Captain,” she explained matter-of-factly.
He blinked. “I see.” He had no idea what she was talking about. Scanning his room, he gazed at the chaos before him. Was this some female morning ritual he was simply unaware of?
He stepped farther into his room. His boot caught on something on the floor. Looking down, he recognized it as the chemise she had worn last night.
The last article of clothing he’d removed from her lush form.
Still clutching a garment in one hand, he bent down and picked up the chemise with the other. Memories of her in it, slipping her out of it, filled his mind. He caressed his thumb over the chemise, enjoying the feel of it in his hand once more, when he sensed three pairs of eyes on him.
Simon looked up. The three women stared back at him with curious looks.
He cleared his throat. “You’ll have this chamber in order soon, I assume,” he said, not wishing it in the least. He couldn’t explain why, but he rather liked seeing her personal items tossed about his chamber.
“Of course, Captain,” Assunta assured.
“Good.” His gaze swept the room once more. Her things, spread out everywhere, inspired warm emotions and renewed his desire to see her. Disappointed, he’d have to wait until midday, when school was finished, to have the opportunity.
“Is there anything else you wish, Captain?” Assunta inquired.
“Hmmm?” Had she said, “wish”? There were a lot of things he wished at that moment. They all had to do with Angelica, in his arms. An idea suddenly came to him. “Yes, actually, there is. I wish for you to prepare a special lunch.” As he gave his instructions, Suzette and Marta smiled. By the time he was finished, they were wearing great big foolish grins.
“Certainly, Captain. I’ll see to the preparations immediately,” Assunta said, the only one able to maintain a serious expression.
Simon nodded and reluctantly handed Angelica’s things to Suzette. He gave his room a last look. Angelica’s belongings completely dominated his chamber, yet he left, barely able to contain his own smile.
*****
Simon finally spotted Angelica in front of Madame Blanche’s tiny shop with Gabriella and Sabine. He was running late because of Xavier Beloit and his long-winded suggestions about additions he felt were needed around the island.
Simon had gone to the schoolhouse and found it empty. He was about to return home, hoping to find Angelica there, when he caught a glimpse of Gabriella and then Angelica, partially hidden from his view by Sabine as the three women stood closely together talking.
He was certain it was Angelica. He’d know those glossy curls anywhere. He took a step toward the trio just as Sabine moved, allowing him an unobstructed view.
He stopped dead in his tracks. Dieu, she looked stunning. Her pink gown made her skin look creamier, her hair all the richer. If tossing her clothing about his room was what it took to look like that, he would gladly have his chamber in disarray.
His heart thundered just to have her in his sight. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“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. La
st 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?
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