CHAPTER THREE

After a day spent staring at the work on his desk, and getting nowhere, it was now evening and Michael was lifted out of the duke’s carriage and into his chair. Angelique’s home was on a quiet street with small gardens at the front of each house bordered by fences and rows of bushes. It looked remarkably respectable for a district that housed many of the ton’s most famous mistresses. Snow covered the ground making everything glisten and sparkle like a fairy tale. Michael felt as if he was moving in a dream so the setting seemed somehow fitting.

“Do you want me to come to the front door with you, sir?”

Michael looked up at the footman who was unlatching the front gate. “No thank you. The path has been cleared of snow, so it is quite safe. There is no need to stay and wait for me. I’ll send a note when I wish to be picked up.”

“Right you are, sir.” The man winked before vaulting back into the carriage. “Have a good evening.”

As the carriage drove off down the icy cobbled street Michael realized that everyone in the duke’s establishment thought they knew exactly what he was doing at a notorious courtesan’s house. And weren’t they correct? If he was honest, he wanted to be in Angelique’s arms more than he wanted to breathe. And that was terrifying. He glanced uncertainly at the front door. What if he failed?

With an impatient jerk he set his chair in motion along the path. If he failed to perform for one of the most skilled courtesans in London then he would at least know once and for all where he stood. He smiled at his choice of words. Afterward he could put his lustful thoughts about Angelique behind him and move on with his life.

He rapped on the door with his cane and an elderly man opened it.

“Monsieur Waterstone?”

“Yes. Good evening.”

“Come in, sir. I am Jean-Paul.” Without a word, the manservant helped Michael ease his chair through the door and into the narrow hallway. “Madam awaits you in the parlor.”

“Thank you.”

The savory smells that emanated from the rear of the house reassured him that dinner would not only be edible, but most welcome. In his preoccupation with the events of the evening, he’d forgotten to eat lunch, which was most unlike him.

“Michael.”

He blinked as Angelique rose from her seat in a cloud of gauzy pink too risqué to be called a nightgown. Her fair hair was down around her shoulders and she looked as if she’d just risen from her bed. She bent to kiss his forehead enveloping him in a cloud of warm skin and rose fragrance that made him breathe faster.

“I hope you don’t mind that I am en dishabille,” She ran her hands down over her filmy skirts revealing and concealing her curvaceous figure. “It seemed silly to get dressed again when I was hoping to be ravished after dinner.”

He brought her hand to his lips. “You are remarkably frank.”

“Perhaps I’ve lived among the English for too long.”

Her wry smile made him relax a little. “Do you miss France?”

She shuddered. “Non, I barely escaped with my life. I have no wish to go back there ever again. Shall we go into the dining room? It is just through these double doors.”

Again she made no attempt to maneuverer his chair or his person through the over crowded parlor and went ahead chatting about the new cook, leaving him to navigate by himself. He was aware that he was being handled by a master but he didn’t mind. Angelique’s success as a spy and a courtesan hadn’t been earned by a woman lacking in intelligence. He’d always admired her tremendously.

“Sit on my right, Michael.”

He did as he was told and unrolled his napkin and placed it on his lap. His stomach growled and Angelique chuckled.

“You are supposed to be hungry after your exertions, Michael, not before.”

“Angelique, if I don’t eat, there won’t be any exertion on my part at all.”

“Then please, go ahead.” She bit down on her lower lip drawing his gaze to the lush curve of her mouth. “I love to see a man with a healthy appetite.”

He ate steadily, aware of her eyes on him and the way she touched his arm, his shoulder and once even his face as she claimed to see a drop of soup on his cheek. His tension ebbed and was replaced by the slow unfurling of warmth that had nothing to do with the food he was eating, and everything to do with Angelique’s attention. How long was it since he had been the sole point of a woman’s interest? How long since he’d been touched by anyone who hadn’t been caring for him physically in some way?

“Michael?”

He blinked and discovered that Angelique had somehow moved closer. She had one hand on his thigh and the other on his upper arm. With a stifled sound he slid his fingers into her hair and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“May I kiss you, Angelique?”

She made a pleasurable humming sound. “If you wish to.”

He moved away and brought one hand under her chin, staring into the startling china blue of her eyes. “I do.”

She leaned into him, her expression intent, her lips already parting. He took her offering and brought his mouth down over hers. He kissed her as if he was due to go off and fight a battle, and with everything that was in him, all the pent up need and desire he’d fought so hard to conceal.

With a soft curse, he pulled back. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very polite, was it? I—”

She yanked hard on his hair making him yelp. “Michael, I don’t want you to be polite. Don’t you dare stop now!”

The next time they drew apart, her lips were swollen red and his heart was hammering so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest.

She drew away from him and an instinctive protest rose in his throat.

“Let’s find somewhere more comfortable to sit.”

This time she did push his chair and he didn’t object. He was as eager to get to where she wanted to take him as she was. She moved down the hallway and into a luxurious bedroom at the rear of the house.

Michael barely had time to register where he was before she was shutting the door and turning back to him.

“Where do you wish to be?”

“With you?”

Her smile was tender. “Naturally, but would you prefer to lie on your back, on the bed, stay in your chair, or sit in one of mine?”

“I don’t want to be on my back. I feel…helpless like that.”

She raised an eyebrow, which reminded him forcibly of his employer. “Then you shall sit here.” She patted the red velvet couch. “Can you manage to slide across with my help, or shall I call Jean-Paul?”

Michael gauged the distance between his wheelchair and the chair. “I think we can manage between us.” Her ability to be so practical and yet not suffocate him was to be treasured.

Using his upper body strength, he swung himself out of the wheelchair and onto the broad seat propping one arm against the armrest as Angelique helped redistribute his weight. She smiled as he settled into the chair and sat next to him, her blue eyes warm and focused on his face.

“May I kiss you now, Michael?”

In answer, he slid his hand around her neck and drew her slowly down to meet him. Her lips softened as they met his, yielding to the thrust of his tongue and his eagerness to possess her in this way--even if he could no longer manage the rest. Her tongue touched his sending a wave of heat shuddering down through his body and he groaned her name.

She kept kissing him, her hand now tangled in his hair holding him as close as he was holding her. She interlocked her fingers with his other hand and drew it over her breast letting him shape and weigh her warm pliant flesh in his palm. God, he wanted to kiss her there, wanted his mouth on her…

She shrugged one shoulder and the filmy collar of her garment fell lower exposing the curve of her breast to his seeking hand. With a stifled sound, he slid his hand inside the silk and felt the hard nub of her nipple against his fingers. He didn’t want to stop kissing her, but he needed… He dragged his lips away from hers and kissed his way down her throat to where his hand already cupped her breast, waiting like an offering to be worshipped.

It had been so long since he’d touched a woman like this…so long…and this woman in particular, had featured in his most erotic imaginings for years. That she should he here practically sitting in his lap and seemingly enjoying herself as much as he was, was a small miracle.

Michael opened his eyes and eased slightly away from her. Her face was flushed her eyes heavy lidded.

“What?” She demanded.

“The duke didn’t… pay you to do this, did he?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

He swallowed hard. “I just wondered, if—”

He winced as she jabbed the tip of her fingernail in his chest. “You just wondered if the duke had paid me to whore for you?”

“It was a stupid thing to say. I apologize, I—”

She stabbed him with her finger again. “You think I would allow the duke to tell me who to fuck?”

“It wasn’t that.” He hesitated. “It’s more that I can’t imagine any woman choosing to, to fuck a cripple like me.”

She stared at him for a few more dangerous seconds. “Then you are a fool.”

“You think so?” He began to breathe a little more easily, aware that she hadn’t slapped his face for his excruciatingly rude question, or climbed off his lap and stormed out.

Oui. I do not have to fuck anyone. I choose my partners.” She glared at him and then nipped his lower lip. “I am a wealthy woman in my own right. I could probably buy your services if I wanted to.”

“I have no doubt of that.” He licked the sore spot on his lip. “In truth, mayhap that’s what I deserve, to be paid for my services, or lack of them.”

She cupped his chin. “If I’m paying, I insist that you undress.”

“I am more than willing to do that for you, my lady.”

She unpinned his cravat and helped his struggle out of his coat and waistcoat. As she worked, she crawled back into his lap and straddled him unbuttoning his tight satin pantaloons and pulling his shirt free. He obediently raised his arms so that she could bring his shirt over his head and shivered as her hands came to rest on his bare skin.

“God, Angelique, you feel so…”

She licked his nipple and kissed her way across his chest to the other side and licked him there, too. He shuddered, his hands everywhere on her, moving from her back to her narrow waist, curling around to play with her breast and taut nipple as she flowed over him and around him like an unstoppable tide. And the kissing just got better and better. He’d never thought of kissing as anything important, but with Angelique it became everything.

She rocked against him and took his hand, bringing it beneath her robe to cup her sex. He groaned as his fingers encountered heat and wetness and he thrust inside her using his thumb to circle her clit. God, he wished he had his cock inside her, wished he could fill her and fuck her and…

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was soft as he stared up at her.

“I’m not…hard. I’m—”

She cupped his cheek. “You are giving me pleasure. Concentrate on that, please.”

With a groan he obliged her, pumping his entwined fingers in and out of her until she started to writhe and squirm over him, encouraging him to move faster with the roll of her hips.

“Oh God…” she murmured against his lips and then bit down, the exquisite stab of pain radiating straight down into his gut making his cock twitch as she came around his fingers.

When she’d finished shuddering she brought his hand up to her lips and very slowly and carefully began to lick his fingers clean. Each flick of her tongue made that now unfamiliar ache of desire grow and throb. He was almost too afraid to look down at his lap in case he was imagining a response where there was none.

Angelique returned to kissing him, her taste now on his lips and in his mouth binding them closer into a sensuous web that made him arch his back and wrap one hand securely around her hips. She settled her bare sex over his groin and he was certain he could feel her wetness soaking the satin of his pantaloons. She rolled her hips and God he couldn’t stop himself from looking down at where they were practically joined.

She caught his jaw in her hand and brought his gaze back to hers. “Stop cheating.”

“How am I cheating?”

“By anticipating events that aren’t yet your concern.”

“My own cock isn’t my concern?”

“No, it’s mine. Your only job is to please me, and you haven’t finished doing that yet.” She licked his nose. “I want your mouth on my sex, your tongue pushing deep inside me until I come so hard I scream.”

“I…I think I can manage that.”

“Good.”

Angelique sat on the broad arm of the couch and untied the sash of her silk robe. It gave her a pleasurable thrill to watch Michael’s normally pleasant expression harden with lust as she slowly opened her legs. Despite his concerns, his cock was already responding to their lovemaking. She had a suspicion that the less she allowed him to worry about it, the better things would turn out.

Leaning forward, she buried her fingers in Michael’s short hair and drew him forward. “Make me come. Make me scream.”

He hesitated as he approached her sex, turning his head to bite her inner thigh and then responded to the urging of her hand and buried his face in her sex.

“Hard, Michael.”

She ground herself shamelessly against his face feeling every inch of his stubble and the sharp nip of his teeth. Closing her eyes she climaxed and held him there so that he experienced every shudder right along with her. He grabbed her foot and set it on his shoulder, opening her even wider to his ravishing mouth. When he added his fingers she came again, and this time screamed his name.

With a soft sound she slid off the arm of the couch and crouched in front of him. His knees were spread wide so she crawled between them and set her mouth on the slight bulge of his cock. It was his turn to touch her hair.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m quite happy to service you all night.”

She paused to look up at him. “I don’t believe you.”

His mouth tightened. “Why not?”

“Because you want this. You want my mouth on you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, Michael Waterstone. Beneath that boring exterior lies a man who loves to take risks. “

A muscle twitched at the side of his mouth. “That man is dead. Lost on the battlefields of Europe. He was an idealistic fool.”

“Who craved excitement and adventure.”

“Because he was too stupid to understand that dying for your country wasn’t quite as glorious as he had imagined it would be.”

“You didn’t die, Michael.”

“I might as well have done.” He looked away from her, his hand fisting at his side. “You’re right. I want to fuck you until you scream, I want you under me, over me, and against the wall until we’re both sore, and then I’ll want you again. But I can’t do those things, Angelique, and that makes me want to cry and rage and I can’t do that either because gentleman must maintain their standards.” His chest was heaving as if he’d run a race. “So perhaps you’d better stop right now because I don’t want to fail you, or hurt you, and I want…everything from you.”

She considered him for a long moment. “So you’d prefer to give up?”

“I have no choice!” He roared the words at her and immediately grimaced. “God, I’m so sorry, Angelique, I—”

With a curse, she dropped her head, leaned forward and nipped his cock through his pantaloons.

“Don’t—” His breath hissed out and he went to grab her hair. She bit him again and felt the kick of his shaft against her lips. She needed no other encouragement and continued to bite and nuzzle his cock until his hand was fisted in her hair whether to drag her away of push her onward she didn’t care. She wasn’t convinced he knew either.

Still holding him captive in her mouth, she reached up and finished unbuttoning the placket of his pantaloons to reveal his undergarments. Shoving those out of the way, she uncovered his cock and immediately sucked him deeply into her mouth.

“Ah, God.” He sounded as desperate as she felt. “Angelique, you don’t have to do this.”

Using her fingers she gripped him around the root of his shaft and squeezed hard making him buck against her hand.

“That’s good.” He moaned. “Harder, do it harder, I need…”

She gave him what he demanded until he was fully erect and wet at the crown and then licked her finger and eased it inside his arse making him curse and buck against her even more wildly. Keeping him tight within her mouth she sucked on him until he was as stiff as the sword he’d never wield in anger again.

When she had him aroused to her liking she eased away and knelt up, her fingers still wrapped around him and met his gaze. His hands were braced on the sides of the couch bearing some of his weight, his muscles straining.

Now you may choose what you want to do next, Mr. Waterstone.” She squeezed his cock. “We’ve proved that you can get hard. How do you want to come?”

* * *

Michael stared at the incredible woman in front of him. He’d lost his temper, described exactly what he wanted to do to her using every crude word at his disposal and she was still there, kneeling in front of him, asking him what he wanted. He had a sense that she’d wait all night until he gave her a satisfactory answer.

And what was even more extraordinary was that for the first time since his return to England he could tell her exactly what he wanted, what he craved more than air…

“I want you.”

“Naturally.” She angled her head to one side and studied him. “How?”

“On top of me. My cock inside you.”

“And what if I say no?”

He glared at her. “Then I’ll pick you up and put you there.”

Her smile was beautiful to behold. “Is it possible that I have roused the beast in you, Michael Waterstone?”

“Do you wish to find out?” He growled.

“I wish to feel you inside me.”

“Then we are in agreement, aren’t we?” He held out his hand. “Come here.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked down at him. “I rather like you like this.”

“Ordering you around?”

She kissed his nose. “Yes. It’s a long time since any man has ever dared to do anything except adore me.”

“You are adorable. I adore you.”

“But I like it when you are…” she licked her lips. “Abrupt with me.”

“And I like it when you use my cock hard.” he hesitated. “I think that’s what I need to feel it properly.”

He gripped his cock around the base replacing her hand and shuddered as her soft folds enfolded the crown of his cock and she gradually sank down fully on him. The sensation of being encased within her heat made him briefly close his eyes.

“I can’t…move much.” He murmured. “I’m sorry.”

She nipped his throat. “That is fortunate because I had no intention of allowing you to move. I want to enjoy myself. I want to use you for my pleasure.”

The thought of that made his cock surge within her. And then she started to slide up and down his shaft and he could only think of her, of the gift she was giving him and that he was going to come so hard that she would be flooded with his seed and that thought made him even harder…

“I’m sorry, I need to come.” He whispered against her lips as she kissed him, her tongue echoing the rhythm of the rise and fall of her hips.

“Then come.”

He obeyed her, as he had in everything, and shook with the pleasure of finding such joy in something he’d thought lost and gone forever. Burying his face in the crook of her neck he surrendered everything he was to her. The wet heat of his tears flowed out along with his seed and he simply allowed himself to feel for the first time in years.

Angelique didn’t seem to mind being held tightly on his lap, his cock still inside her. It wasn’t until a long while later, when he became aware of the chill of the night air that he managed to open his eyes and look down on her blonde head. She was naked, he was still partially dressed and the fire had burned down low.

He kissed her hair. “That was the best Christmas present I have ever had.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes.” His smile faded as he searched Angelique’s face. ”Why, is something wrong?”

“No, I am glad that you enjoyed your gift.” She rose over him and climbed off the bed, bringing a basin of water and a soft cloth back with her. Her long fair hair hung over one shoulder and she looked lush and well fucked and he wanted her again. She started washing his stomach and he caught her wrist.

“What ‘s wrong?”

She swallowed hard. “Just that a gift once given, cannot be repeated.”

Pain shot through him and he released her hand. “I understand. I have no right to expect more.” He attempted a smile. “I promise I won’t be one of those men who follow you around and beg for your favors.”

“That’s not what I meant, I want—”

“What?”

She slowly exhaled. “It is nothing, I am being stupid.”

He removed the washcloth from her hand and put both hands on her shoulders. “About what?”

“About you, about wanting things that I can never have because of who I am. I’m glad that you have rediscovered yourself and that you can get married to someone suitable.” She bit her lip. “Forgive me, I don’t wish to spoil our special night. I promise I’ll be more like my old self tomorrow.”

“The beautiful untouchable courtesan?” He gripped her tightly. “And what if I don’t want you to do that? What if I want all your gifts, all your talents to be given only to me?”

She raised an imperious eyebrow. “You can’t afford me.”

“Not as a mistress, but what about as a wife? I understand you would come with an excellent dowry.”

Her face went still. “You can’t wish to marry me. I’m notorious.”

“And I’m a nonentity. Any gossip about our union would be about why you had condescended to marry a cripple.”

Color rose on her cheeks. “You are a gentleman! Gentlemen do not marry whores! This is just misplaced gratitude because I won our wager.”

“No, it isn’t.” he glanced down at his lap. “That was very pleasant indeed, but that isn’t why I want you to marry me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?”

He cupped her taut jaw. “I want to marry you because you are my true beloved friend and the only person who cared enough to try and make this right for me. You don’t feel sorry for me, you treat me like a normal human being and I bloody well like you!” He kissed her stiff lips. “Damnation woman, if you let me, I think I could love you, too.”

She tried to speak, but he kept going.

“I don’t care about your past. What happened before was a different life for both of us. I’m not the same idealistic man who took a commission in the army. I’m different now and so are you.”

* * *

Angelique stared into his brown eyes and wanted to believe him so badly it shocked her. She touched his now transformed face and knew she’d never be able to see him without remembering what they had done together and want more…

“I…don’t know what to do.” She shivered. “I just don’t. Can you give me time to think about this?”

He frowned at her. “I didn’t expect you to rush off to Gretna Green with me in the morning. Of course I’ll give you time. At least until after Christmas.”

“That’s only two days away.”

“Plenty of time for you to make your decision, then.”

He sounded more like his old self now, which was disconcerting considering he was half naked in her boudoir and she was sitting on his lap.

A faint yapping sound made her stiffen and turn toward the door. “My dogs are supposed to be tucked up in Elsa’s bed with her.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” Michael murmured.

She placed a finger on his lips. “But they sound as if they are in the kitchen.”

She slid off Michael’s lap, found her robe and belted it firmly around her waist. After listening again, she went to her chest of drawers and found her set of dueling pistols and laid them on the couch beside Michael. Without questioning her further he opened the box and set about loading one of the pistols as she did the other.

“Can you help me back into my chair? He asked as he rebuttoned his pantaloons.

Once that was accomplished she went to the door and opened it a crack. There was the sound of Gallic cursing and the shrill yelp of a dog that made her stiffen. Michael laid a hand on her arm.

“Let me go first. Whoever it is won’t be expecting me. You can follow behind and shoot anyone who tries to shoot me.”

He sounded much calmer than she felt and she nodded. “It sounds like my old cook. Why would he come back?”

“Maybe the duke managed to prevent him leaving the country and he came back because he had nowhere else to go and a task to complete.”

Another muffled whine made Angelique growl quietly like one of her pets.

“Remember, we don’t want to kill him outright.”

“I do,” Angelique said. “He’s hurting my dogs.”

“We want to take him to the duke. Let’s go,” Michael whispered. “Give me a good push and then crouch down behind my chair so that he won’t see you.”

Angelique held the door open wide. After positioning him in the right direction, she shoved him hard and he hurtled down the slight incline toward the kitchen, one hand maneuvering the chair, the other holding the pistol concealed at his side.

Merde!” The intruder shouted as Michael came into view.

“Drop your weapon!” Michael shouted. “Or I’ll shoot!”

Even as the cook’s hand came up, Frou Frou jumped off the table and sank her teeth into the man’s wrist. He screamed and the shot went wide and buried itself in the wall. Michael abandoned his chair in one fluid movement and flung himself over the cook, pinning him to the ground.

“Get help, Angelique!” He slammed the cook’s pistol hand against the slate floor until the man released his grip on the weapon. The three dogs continued to bark and jump around between the fallen cook and Angelique.

The back door swung open and the duke’s servant entered rubbing the back of his head.

“Bastard clocked me one when I turned away.”

“Then come and take care of him now and get him to the duke.” Michael waited until the duke’s man produced a sturdy length of rope and then immobilized the cook with a swift blow to the back of the head. “That should do it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Michael rolled onto his back and stayed on the kitchen floor while Frou Frou took up residence on his chest and licked his face. A little while later, Angelique crawled over to sit beside him, praising her dogs and patting Michael indiscriminately. The rest of her staff was discovered locked in their rooms. Elsa who had brought the dogs down for their nightly excursion in the garden and had the misfortune to discover the cook breaking into the kitchen and been trapped in the pantry.

Eventually, even the staff departed leaving Michael restored to his chair and Angelique attempting to cuddle all three of her dogs at once. She turned to him and smiled, aware of the hint of exhaustion darkening his fine eyes and faint shaking of his limbs.

He shoved a hand through his disordered hair. “I should go and make my report to the duke.”

Settling the dogs in his lap she cupped his chin. “Not if we are to start for Gretna Green in the morning.”

His smile changed into something so warm, special and just for her that she couldn’t look away.

“It’s far too cold to start for Scotland tonight.” He cleared his throat. “I’d settle for a place in your bed, and a marriage whenever you are ready.”

She sighed and kissed him gently on the mouth. “If that is your Christmas gift to me, I think I will treasure it for the rest of my life.”