Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

n'est-ce pas?

"

"Shall we indeed?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow, removing his jacketand placing it carefully over the back-of the chaise longue under awindow before examining the pair of foils resting on the seat. Their

tips were carefully buttoned.

"You are full of surprises, brat," he observed, calmly pulling off histop boots before rolling up the ruffled sleeves of his shirt.

Danielle laughed delightedly as she picked up one of the foils, makinga quick pass in the air that told him very clearly that this was notyro. "The best of three hits, milord. We are agreed?"

He said nothing, merely picked up the other foil and faced her, its tipresting on the ground at his feet.

Her own flashed in salute and the next minute he found himself incombat with one of the best fencers he had ever been privileged toface. Herexpression was now intense, all laughter gone, and the slightbody moved on the polished floor with all the agility of a dancer. Hisswift thrust in prime was parried instantly and countered with aflanconnade to his left hand. He had not been expecting such asophisticated maneuver and the tip of her blade grazed his side.

"One to me, milord," she said tranquilly, stepping back.

"On guard!" His foil flashed in a thrust in tierce but was instantlyparried; for a moment their blades locked and she had bounced back,feinting to the right before parrying his swift lunge and sliding under

his suddenly opened guard.

Linton dropped his point and held out a hand. "We will have a returnmatch tomorrow, infant. And you will not, then, take me by surprise."

"Are you being ungenerous in defeat, sir?" she asked, taking theproffered hand.

"Not at all. But I did not know what to expect. Where did you learn theart?"

"Marc,

mon oncle

," shereplied briefly.

"That explains your skill." Marc de St. Varennes was a noted duelistwho, if rumor were to be believed, fought only to the death, and sincehe had met his own at the hands of a peasant mob and not on theduelling ground his supremacy was without question.

It was a soft, rose-pink evening in early September when their summeridyll came to a close. Linton was to leave for London at dawn thefollowing morning, Danielle and her grandparents to follow several dayslater.

"I wish I could travel with you, milord," she murmured wistfully asthey walked toward the cliff top. "It will take forever, boxed up inthat stuffy old coach."

"You may ride some of the way—I am sure that March will have noobjection," he replied absently. "A week will see you in Bedford Place."

"I shall ride all the way," she stated firmly. "Can you imagine howtedious it would be to listen to Grandmama and Hannah rabbiting on forhours at a time about the latest fashions and whether Monsieur Artur isstill the best hairdresser in town?"

"'Rabbiting,' brat, is not a word you will use, please."

"Oh, is it very vulgar?" Her eyes twinkled.

"Very," he said firmly.

"Do you think I shall set the town by the ears, sir?" She frownedtoward the horizon and the red ball of the setting sun slipping intothe dark sea.

"Only in the nicest possible way, Danny." He turned her toward him, onehand taking her chin. "I predict that you will take the town by storm,my love. You will behave impeccably at all times—well, most times," heamended with a soft laugh. "And not gallop in Hyde Park or take yourcarriage down St. James's or tell people that they are idiotish—evenwhen they are. And you will be the most beautiful woman in London and Ithe most envied husband." His lips came down slowly and the soft petalof her mouth opened in eager, willing invitation. She was no longerafraid of her reactions and to his secret delight had begun to makedemands of her own. As his hands felt for the satiny skin of herbreasts she moaned softly, moving against him,slipping her arms around his neck, holding his head captive against herface as her own tongue pushed between his lips on its own voyage ofexploration.

Justin tipped her backward over one supporting arm as his hand pusheddown the neck of hergown, lifting the soft breasts out of theirconcealment. Danielle gasped slightly as the cool evening air strokedthe bared flesh and long fingers caught the erect nipples, rolling thembetween manicured tips. A deep tension was growing in the pit of herbelly and she became aware of a strange dampness in the secret part ofher body. His mouth found one breast, licking, nuzzling, nibbling,drawing from her a deep involuntary groan, half protest, half wanting.Something was sliding up the silken length of her leg, pushing asidethe skirts and petticoats, reaching the ruffled cuff of her pantalettes.

"No!" She tried to push away his hand as it continued its journey overher cambric-clothed thighs, sliding suddenly between them to discoverthe moist center of her desire. Embarrassment engulfed her in great hotagonized waves.

Justin raised his head from her breast, but left his hand where it was,scorching through the thin protection of her drawers. "You have suchpassion in you, my sweet," he murmured huskily. "You must not deny it."His eyes, heavy and languorous, burned their message of reassurance anddeep sensuality into her own anxious ones. He frowned suddenly,wondering if he had believed her too readily when she had said she knewabout the physical side of marriage. Leaning against the low wall hedrew her between his knees, holding her lightly by the waist. "Youunderstand what happens between a man and a woman, do you not?"

"Oh yes," she announced cheerfully and then the pert little nosewrinkled slightly. "Only, I am not quite certain of exactly ... well... exactly where things are. I understand the principle, you see, butnot the practice," she finished in a rush.

"Well, I am glad that you do not. His eyes glinted. "The marriage