Forbidden by Susan Johnson (good books to read for teens .TXT) 📕

as far as your feelings are concerned, whether there are twenty names more or less?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"I'm going back to Montana next week," Daisy quietly said.

"Because of this?" His green eyes were half lidded and wary.

Daisy shook her head in a small economical movement. "My tickets are scheduled for the Tuesday sailing."

"You could change them."

"Your divorce isn't going to be expeditious… not with Isabelle in her current frame of mind. And I've commitments for my family, some of which—court hearings and the like—I shouldn't miss."

"Perhaps not staying's for the best," Etienne replied, worried for Daisy's safety after Isabelle's visit. His concern wasn't keenly acute, only a general unease predicated on Isabelle's mocking poise. Having Daisy out of harm's way might be prudent. "You have commitments… until this divorce is settled…" His voice trailed off as he grimaced slightly. God only knew how long that would be.

Daisy was surprised at Etienne's mild acceptance; she'd thought he'd be more distressed at her leaving. Was Isabelle right, after all, about her position in Etienne's life? Was she simply another transient relationship as easily discarded as all the others? "Isuppose you're right," she said, a noticeable coolness in her voice.

"Isabelle's a factor too," he added, feeling some acknowledgement of her menace necessary. "Lord knows, I don't want you to go, but Isabelle could be a threat to your safety."

Daisy's brows shot up. "Seriously?" The notion was almost inconceivable.

The Duc raised his hands in an open gesture of uncertainty, shook his head briefly, and sighed. "Maybe seriously… so your leaving might be prudent."

After her recent discussion with Isabelle, Daisy's immediate reaction was a small uncomfortable doubt. Surely she was in no danger in Paris from a jealous wife; how would Isabelle hurt her? With her diamond-studded parasol handle? Or the business end of her ivory and feather fan? Perhaps this was convenient for the Duc, this idea of a threat. Since she'd already planned to leave, no argument was necessary. "If you think so, I'm sure you know better than I."

Her unemotional response disconcerted the Duc. Daisy was rarely so docile; he corrected himself—she was never docile. Was she leaving because she no longer cared? he wondered, touched with a novel insecurity when it came to Daisy. Or was she simply being practical now that his divorce had been orchestrated into a major calamity. "Isabelle's temper over the divorce should moderate with time. And Bourges tells me he may be able to change the venue to the Colsec district since I've lived there for almost twenty years. I'll come for you when the preliminaries point to success." He smiled. "You can show me your mountain lodge."

Isabelle's unexpected appearance and unnerving list served to hinder her unconditional acceptance of Etienne's statements. Where she may have taken his words to heart in the past, Daisy scrutinized them now with suspicion. How easy for him to make promises. Perhaps he ended all his relationships on those friendly terms. Such leave-takings certainly saved tears and recriminations. And if this was a timeworn custom, she could certainly be as blas�. "If Bourges proves successful, I'd be happy to."

"You don't sound optimistic."

Looking across the small balcony at the Duc from under half-lowered lashes, she answered frankly, her thoughts a melange of melancholy and suspicion underlaid with her perennial logic. "You're not just fighting Isabelle's defiance," she said with the smallest of sighs, "your petition for divorce is a threat to those of your class with values and norms antipathetic to yours.10Remember, they condemn not only the ease of divorce, but the act itself. And they're as utterly committed to their conceptions of normal behavior as we are to our individuality." She lifted her dark lashes fully, looking at him with open candor, wondering if he was being as frank with her. "No, I'm not optimistic," she honestly said, Isabelle's visit too recent and upsetting to overlook. "Our lives are fragile and society can be oppressive. I should know. My people are victims of that system." Isabelle's visit today was a reminder, in a way, of the sad capacity for exploitation and cruelty so casually directed at anyone considered weaker.

The Duc understood how her own experience with prejudice could color her thoughts, but his own life had been one of such privilege, he couldn't agree with her more pessimistic view. He'd never had to fight for any of the prerogatives he took for granted. But he'd been in struggles for advantage in business, and he understood if you gave up, you never won. "Bourges will find a way," he said.

"Will you live in America then?" In the gloomy aftermath of Isabelle's visit, she might as well bring up another of the sizable obstacles to their future.

"I hadn't considered the possibility. Could you not live here with me?"

As she'd expected, he'd not envisioned changing his life, only hers. "Not permanently," Daisy replied.

Swiftly recovering from the surprise of her reply, he said, "We can work out the logistics, Daisy, believe me."

She didn't have the heart to tell him Parisian society was of little interest to her, apart from the few friends she had… and him of course. "So we'll work things out," she murmured with a smile that was teasing, weary suddenly of the extended misery in the contemplation of their future. She had five more days with him; five more days to love him and talk to him, to share his laughter and his life. And she intended to have pleasure in those few days, a last chapter, as it were, in her book of memories.

The Duc's grin was instantaneous, receptive to her altered mood. "We've always been very good," he agreed, his voice suddenly husky, his green eyes insinuating, "at… working things out."

"Does an afternoon bath interest you, for instance?" Daisy said, her voice suggestive.

Raking a hand through his long black hair, dusty and still damp from his heated play and swift ride home, he murmured, "Very much."

"I could help." It was a promise of pleasure.

"Or join me." The Duc's bath