Page 79 of The Assassin and the Libertine
We were both silent on the way back through the cemetery to the waiting carriage—me, lost in the fantasy of draining every member of The Order and then going home to Daphne’s bed; her, predictably stewing in haughty jealousy over the mention of my former lover. I certainly didn’t fault her. The thought of her dead andquite evilhusband made me feel a jealous rage that usually led to splintered furniture.
“Chérie,”I tried. “That was practically a lifetime ago. And it was never for love—or even mutual regard, really. She was meant to be a means to an end.”
“Oh, of course,” Daphne said. She stared hard out the window. “It’s fine, Étienne. I knew your reputation a long time ago.”
“My reputation was widely exaggerated, Duchesse. And it wasn’t some great love affair. It happened once, and I’ve regretted it since. I was merely trying to find some influence with the king, which didn’t exactly work in my favor, considering she happens to be hisleastfavorite cousin.”
“Honestly, it’s fine,” she repeated. “We’ll say no more about it,d’accord?”
I eyed her skeptically. She sniffed in irritation, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Donotlaugh at me,” she growled. “I am still armed, you know.”
“But it’s just so sweet,” I chuckled, dragging her into my lap. “I adore your jealousy. It makes me feel like you’re just as possessive of me as I am over you.” I pulled her head down to mine for a searing kiss. “It is the best kind of Christmas present.”
Daphne sighed against me and melted into another kiss. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out, dragging lightly against my fangs. The sensation was like a bolt of lightning through my body, tightening every muscle and making my cock hard. Thebouncing of her bottom on my lap as the carriage rolled over cobblestone streets did nothing to slake my building lust.
“You know,” she murmured playfully at my ear. “I rather like this mask on you. It makes you seem like a charming, yet dangerous, highwayman.”
“Stand and deliver,” I growled. “Your money or your body!”
Daphne tilted back her head and laughed, and I took advantage of the pose to kiss her throat. She moaned softly and slid her hands beneath my waistcoat. It was like flinging a match into a tinderbox. I pushed her back against the opposite seat, diving for the pins and ties on her bodice. The carriage pitched roughly, and I lost my grip, then abandoned the quest in frustrated haste. An instinctive vampiric hiss emanated from my throat as I fumbled for her skirts.
“Daphne,l’amour,I need you,” I demanded between kisses. I stared into her lust-glazed eyes in the darkness, feeling the blood pound through my body like a drum on a battlefield.
“You have me,chéri,” she whispered. She pulled her skirts up to her waist and wrapped her legs around me, grinding her heat against my breeches.Dieu, I will lose myself right here.
One hand was at the falls of my breeches when the carriage came to a stop.
“Putain!”she swore. “What timing!”
I thought a thousand evil thoughts about the carriage driver, the roads, and the speed of our travel as we righted ourselves and stepped out onto the snowy drive in front of Daphne’s château.
“Sunrise isn’t for a few hours,” she said in a low voice. “We don’t have to sayaDieuquite yet.”
I needed no other encouragement. I picked her up and raced into the manor like Lucifer himself was on my heels.
CHAPTER THREE
DAPHNE
December 23, 1765
Château de Champs-sur-Marne
I couldn’t helpbut laugh as Étienne barreled through the house, heading straight for the wine cellar. Some months ago, he’d shown up at my home after a failed poisoning attempt, and I was compelled to set up a makeshift bedchamber underground where he could recover. In the following weeks, I had never quite gotten around to bringing the large bed back upstairs. It had worked out well for us—after our engagement, we’d made use of it more than a few times.
The entrance to the wine cellar was through the kitchen. Étienne plunked me down on the kitchen table to open the heavy door to the cellar but was disappointed to find it was locked.
“Merde!Daphne, why is this door locked? You never lock the wine cellar.” His voice carried an edge of petulance.
“Oh no, I forgot! With theréveillonfeast coming up, I had several cases of champagne delivered and my butler, Gaston,is keeping them under lock and key until Christmas Eve.” I frowned.
Étienne’s eyes flashed, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Don’t you dare break down that door,” I warned. “There are beds in the rooms upstairs.”
“But all those rooms have large windows, and it’ll be sunrise in a few hours,” he practically whined.
