Bride for a Night(47)
“Well, well,” he drawled. “Jacques might be a ghastly host, but he does possess an exquisite taste in guards.” He ran a blatant gaze down the length of her body. “Or are you here in the guise of a maid?”
She tossed aside the blanket, offering him the famed smile that had seduced men, from chimney sweeps to royalty.
“How can you be so certain I am not a genuine maid?” she said huskily.
His eyes narrowed, but thankfully he seemed as susceptible as every other gentleman to her allure, and stepping forward, he captured her hands in a light grip.
“Few servants can afford a gown made of pure silk. And these hands…” His thumb brushed her inner wrist with a touch that spoke of his vast experience in pleasing women. “Soft and smooth. They have never known hard labor.”
“While your hands are finely crafted like those of an artist and yet, strong enough for a warrior. An enticing combination.” Her throaty words were cut off as she found herself being roughly shoved against the brick wall of the cellar, her captor using his large body to restrain her instinctive attempt to escape. Sophia froze, her lips twisting with the rueful acceptance that it was Ashcombe who had lured her into a false sense of security rather than the other way around. She did not know whether to be insulted or impressed. “My lord. Should we not at least be introduced before you attempt such intimacies?” she quipped.#p#分页标题#e#
His expression was set in cruel lines. “Does Jacques think me a fool?”
“Actually he refers to you as the black plague.”
“Tell me why he sent you.”
Sophia shivered beneath the impact of his icy gaze. Up close the Earl of Ashcombe was even more intimidating than at a distance.
She felt very much as if she had poked a sleeping lion, and now she was about to suffer the consequences.
“He does not know I am here,” she responded.
His jaw tightened. “I have no patience for such tedious games.”
With an effort, Sophia stiffened her spine and forced a teasing smile to her lips. This was too important to lose her courage now.
“I assure you, my lord, my games are never tedious.”
His gaze flicked with chilling indifference down her slender body, seemingly disinterested in the perfection of her curves.
“You are either here in the hopes of seducing information from me or in an effort to lure me from my wife.” His gaze snapped back to her face. “Both of which are doomed to failure.”
She couldn’t curb the stab of bitterness. “Non, I could never hope to lure a gentleman from the bewitching allure of the Countess of Ashcombe.”
“What do you know of my wife?” he growled.
“I know that she cannot be allowed to remain here.”
He frowned, caught off guard by her simple words. “Who the devil are you?”
“Sophia Reynard.”
“Sophia.” He slowly tested her name on his lips. “Why is that so familiar?”
Her chin tilted with pride. “Before my retirement I was considered one of the finest actresses in Paris.”
“Ah, yes.” Frigid recognition flared through his eyes. “You were a companion to Napoleon.”
Sophia rolled her eyes. No matter what her success upon the stage had been she would always be renowned for her powerful lovers, never for her considerable skill as an actress.
Such a pity men were allowed to rule the world.
“That is all in the past,” she informed him.
“Then why are you at this palace?”
“I should think that would be rather obvious to such a worldly gentleman,” she said dryly.
“Good God.” He grimaced. “Jacques Gerard?”
“Oui. He is handsome and charming and a magnifique lover. More important, he is a skillful leader who is destined for greatness.”
Lord Ashcombe shrugged. “Only if Napoleon succeeds.”
“Which he must do,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity. “And to accomplish his victory he has need of Jacques.”
He studied her for a long, unnerving moment. Then slowly he stepped back, although Sophia was not foolish enough to believe he would allow her to escape, even if she desired to.
“Why did you seek me out?”
She smoothed a nervous hand down the silk of her gown. “Since Jacques’s return to France I find myself growing concerned.”
“So you should,” he taunted. “He is a treacherous bastard who should be delivered to the guillotine with all possible haste.”
“My concern is that he is being distracted from his responsibility.”
“If you have no desire for him to be distracted then perhaps you should consider leaving the palace.”