Forbidden by Susan Johnson (best feel good books txt) 📗

tea in his study, poring over charts and photographs of their journey, she wished Etienne were with them to add his account to his cousin's. He had been the expedition cartographer, Georges told her, another facet of the Duc exposed to further alter her image. Picturing him crossing the landmass of Russia and the Arctic in extremity and danger as Georges traced their journey on the map spread between them, she realized Etienne was considerably more complex than the facile courtier she'd envisioned.

"Come back whenever you wish," Georges invited when she rose to leave. "Any friend of Etienne's is always welcome." After spending time with Daisy, Georges better understood his cousin's response. She was interesting, interested, and very beautiful.

As Daisy walked through the imposing double doors of the Hôtel Soubise and crossed the medieval cobbled courtyard to the carriage waiting for her, she wondered where the Duc was playing polo this afternoon. In the next instant, she questioned why she was impractical enough to be curious. She'd made her position clear last night. Even if the Duc weren't married, even if he weren't notorious for the brevity of his affairs, they had absolutely nothing in common.

At her approach, the crested carriage-door swung open, and from the shadowed interior a familiar deep voice drawled, "He must have liked you. The tour usually takes twenty minutes."

Inexplicably, the spring sun seemed to shine with added radiance.

His strong hand came out to help her in. Seating her opposite him on the green velvet seat, he tapped twice on the forward paneling.

"Do you need a sherry after the dryness of Georges's lecture?" he asked as the carriage moved off across the courtyard.

"Georges's lecture wasn't dry, as you very well know. Why didn't you join us?"

"I was being sensible."

She understood immediately his quiet brief declaration, uttered entirely without inflection yet Byzantine in substance. "You didn't play polo today." She wanted the words to authenticate their feelings.

"I had other things on my mind," he tersely said, not forthcoming with the desired words, not inclined to bare the quixotic nature of his impulses. "Would you like a drink?"

"Do you want to talk?"

"No." His answer was softly abrupt.

"Where would you like to have a drink?" she quietly asked, her own inclinations as utterly deviant from ordinary behavior as the Duc's.

Lounging in the seat opposite her, casually dressed in a lightweight tweed jacket, and riding pants, his boots slightly dusty, he only looked at her from under his dark brows. His black hair was disheveled as though he'd restlessly run his hands through it, its silky darkness lying in curls against his tanned neck and the creamy silk of his shirt collar. And she was reminded again how very beautiful he was.

"I don't know about Adelaide's," she began when he didn't answer.

"I have a small house on the Seine."

"I don't want to go there," she brusquely said.

"I've never taken a woman there," he said, almost equally brusquely.

Did that include his wife, she found herself jealously thinking, marveling at the same time at the degree of possessiveness she was already feeling. How could he affect her so? Like a prize she wanted, or a beautiful object close enough to reach out and take if she wished.

"Not Isabelle either," he tersely said. "Satisfied?" He was making concessions to her—openly.

"I don't want to be demanding."

"But you just are," he said with a small smile.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged as if to say it didn't matter or perhaps it mattered but he didn't care—right now—this moment.

Would he care tomorrow? Would the whole world change, Daisy wondered, or more aptly, how much would her world change? For the first time in her life she was relinquishing control of her emotions. Her father would be happy. He'd always thought her too grave and pragmatic. Intense feelings of family washed over her momentarily.

"We are different," she said, as if some explanation was required for this tremendous step she was about to take.

"Why would you want to be the same?"

He could have been more courteous. He normally practiced an amiable cordiality without effort. Contrary emotions, however, were buffeting long-established principles of living for him as well. He'd never taken a woman to his house near Colsec because it was his refuge from the excesses of his life. Colsec was his private haven, with only a cook and one manservant. No one knew of it—not his family nor his friends. He was intruding into his sanctuary today. Out of necessity, he told himself. He couldn't bring Daisy home, although the Hôtel de Vec was large enough that he'd entertained ladies frequently in his apartments without offending anyone in his family. Somehow he knew Daisy wouldn't approve of meeting at his family home. His bachelor apartment near the Place de la Concorde would be even more awkward. He found he couldn't treat her like all the other women.

So his private retreat would be sacrificed today for the singular Mademoiselle from America. The thought pinched for a moment like a tight boot.

"I don't know if I like you when you're sullen," Daisy said, his whole lounging posture, creased brows, and silence the picture of discontent.

"I don't know if I like you at all," he murmured, his eyes traveling with impolite regard down the flowered organza of her spring gown, returning with deliberate scrutiny to her lavish bosom before moving upward to her face. "Although don't be alarmed," he ambiguously added.

"I'm not alarmed." Her voice was clear and sure. "I'm old enough to know what I'm doing."

"How old is that?" Not that it mattered. He was curious only.

"Thirty."

His brows rose in swift surprise. She looked much younger. With the pale green ribbons in her hair and the delicate flowered gown, she looked sixteen. "Why is it you're never married?"

"I've never been in love."

He smiled thinly. "A romantic woman. Need I remind you," he said, glancing out the window briefly at the passing scenery, "it's not a prerequisite for marriage."

"And you should know," she replied with quiet emphasis.

His eyes held hers for one cool moment.