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

with the smiling young lady since forestalling female winks was entirely new in his experience. His decision to ignore it wasn't successful however, forMarie Vanier wasn't currently in the mood to be ignored. She, in fact, flirted shamelessly and provocatively, undeterred by the Duc's monosyllabic replies. When it became impossible to feign ignorance of the lady's interest—she'd taken to pressing her thigh against his, the Duc de Vec decided it was time to leave. With a bland smile and a blander excuse, he rose from his chair.

"Damn feeble excuse, de Vec," Formonde cheerfully noted. "Your damn business manager can wait on you tomorrow. Stay on," he cordially invited at the same time he signaled for more champagne.

"Do stay, Etienne. We can all go back together," the younger female Vanier suggested with a charming smile.

"Please, Etienne?" Marie, the Duchesse Vanier purred, reaching out to stroke his hand in an intimate gliding progress that leisurely slid down the entire length of his slender fingers.

"Perhaps some other time," he politely replied, drawing away a step so he was out of her reach.

"Then why don't we go back now too?" Marie said to her brother-in-law. "We can share our compartment with the Duc."

"No need, I've one of my own."

"Well, we'll share yours then. It's settled. Come, André. Come, Formonde and Thérèse. Bring the champagne."

And so the Duc de Vec found himself in the unusual position of refusing a beautiful woman's advances, for what turned out to be an excruciatingly long three-and-an-half-hour train ride back to Paris. He retreated delicately with a polite smile when she pressed close or turned off her suggestive double entendres with a sportive witticism. When she advanced, he withdrew or sidestepped or feigned deafness—a wearing game in close quarters in the company of three other people.

Halfway to Paris, he arbitrarily ceased drinking, recognizing the need for all his faculties, and when the conductor announced the outlying suburbs of Paris, he began counting down the minutes.

When at last they arrived at the Gare St. Lazare his adieux were terse and a shade hasty for absolute courtesy. And he literally jumped from the train while it was still coasting to a stop.

Like a boy let out of school, he sprinted down the concourse, the smile on his face one of blessed release.

Was this an epiphany? he joyfully reflected, dodging those individuals moving down the concourse with less haste. Had he passed through a personal revelation of principle? His grin widened. He didn't suppose a priest would understand.

Hazard met Daisy at the depot in Chicago. Since he had business in the city, he explained, and she was on her way home, he decided to arrange his schedule to accommodate hers. While not entirely truthful about his intentions, he had attended to 'some mining transactions, although his principal purpose in coming East had been his concern for Daisy.

"How can you manage to look so fresh and cool?" her father asked as they walked toward his carriage. "It's damn hot here." Chicago was wilting under ninety-degree temperatures, the humidity damp as a steam lodge.

"It's mental, Father." She smiled up at him. "I'm thinking of cool mountains."

"I envy you your imagery. My mountains are three days away on a fast train."

"Do you have much more business here?"

"Not much," he replied, for he'd heard the small catch in her voice before she'd steadied her emotions, and the evidence of tears had been immediately apparent as she'd stepped off the train. "Are you in a hurry to reach home?"

Daisy nodded, her face partially concealed beneath the brim of her straw hat.

"I'm available to leave anytime," he immediately offered. "You decide." Glancing at his daughter dressed romantically in pink-flowered gauze, the streamers on her wide-brimmed hat, and at her waist, grass green trailing silk, Hazard wondered whether the Duc de Vec selected her dress, its style so unlike Daisy's usual taste. Was Etienne Martel also the cause of her tears? Resentful, he knew the answer to both his questions.

In a general way, Hazard had heard of Daisy's liaison with the Duc, for he had friends in Paris, and, of course, Adelaide had written to Empress. While he had no objection to Daisy falling in love with whomever she pleased, he did object to the fact she was obviously unhappy. And if the Duc de Vec had harmed his daughter in any way. Hazard had every intention of seeing he paid for that injury.

"Could we leave soon?"

Hazard touched her hand, stopped in midstride, and when she looked back at the tall figure of her father standing very still in the streaming crowd of passengers moving toward their destinations, he quirked a dark brow and said, "Should we leave now?"

How did he know, Daisy wondered, tears welling into her eyes and closing her throat, that she wanted to be back in the mountains so badly even a few hours more in Chicago would have been unbearable?

Without a word, Hazard opened his arms to his stricken daughter. She went to him in a rush, her hat slipping off in the sweep of his embrace, dangling by the silky green ribbons halfway down her back. She felt unassailably safe again, engulfed in her father's arms as though he could make her world right again, as though his protection could shut out the hurt and pain.

"Take me home," she whispered against the solid strength of her father's chest.

She could have been asking him to ride into a village of his enemies and he would have for love of his child. He'd journeyed East to meet her because in the drift of rumor from Paris, he'd known she'd need consolation. But beneath the gentle comfort of his succor raged a furious rankling anger at the man who'd so casually devastated his daughter's content. And he vowed on the spirit gods of his medicine the cougar, the Duc de Vec would answer someday for this hurt to his child.

"I'll find a train West," he said, stroking her hair, her tears wetting his shirtfront. "We'll be