told her and what her heart felt—that Isabelle was alive.
It left her unbalanced, bewildered. Lost. Just as she felt now. How pathetic was she?
She couldn’t accept her sister’s demise. She couldn’t remain detached, even remotely, in her enemy’s arms. And she hadn’t fooled Jules into believing she was sexually experienced either.
He’d realized the truth.
Sabine sat up and slipped her chemise back on, her hands shaky.
He jerked her chin up, startling her. He was down on his haunches, clearly furious. “You lied to me,” he growled. “Why did you pretend you were experienced? What game are you playing?”
Her own emotions erupted. She shoved his hand away. “Game? This is no game.” She shot to her feet. Turning away from him, she took a few steps, needing space and time to collect herself. Needing to shut him out and the devastating effect he’d had on her.
She pulled on her skirt, becoming frustrated with her fumbling fingers as they bumbled with the fastenings.
Collect yourself!
From the way he was behaving, she was going to have to provide answers. She was going to have to think of something believable that would satisfy him—at a time when she felt too unraveled to think clearly. She’d already paid a price for her plan with her lost innocence.
She couldn’t let him cast her out now.
He grasped her arm and spun her around to face him. “Why. Did. You. Do. This?”
She laughed and blinked away more tears she refused to shed. Being Elise was exhausting. Consuming. And she was beginning to despise her.
“Why?” she repeated. “Are you that much of a fool? Why would any woman profess to be a whore and enter a men’s camp if not because she was desperate .”
“My patience is running out. Speak plainly!” he barked. “And your words this time had better be the absolute truth .”
The stone-cold look in his eyes sent a shiver of dread through her. Fury was coming off him in waves. She found herself mourning the loss of his smile, his heated looks. And she hated it that she did. She felt defeated. She’d lost the battle. Yet she had no choice but to fight on.
She still had to steal his captured prize.
But Jules de Moutier was not a man to be trifled with. This former officer of the King’s Navy was a veteran in battle, skilled at weapons, with a small army of armed men at hand under his command.
She had only her two younger cousins and desperation arming her.
“I didn’t wish to deceive you. I didn’t think you would want me if you knew I was a . . . virgin.”
“You are correct there! Who are you?”
Lying was much like acting. You had to put on a believable performance. And the most convincing lies incorporated as much of the truth as you could allow.
“My name is Elise Marquette.” The false name slipped past her lips. “I couldn’t have you turn me away. I’m desperate for funds. What else was there for me to do?”
Mistrust was clearly readable in his eyes. “You have the wine. You could have sold it for coin,” he said tightly.
He’d cornered her. What she was about to admit to was a risky tactic to take, but she was out of options. He didn’t look as though he’d let her skirt around the subject of the wine. God help them . . . “I couldn’t. The—The wine is . . . tainted.”
“You poisoned the wine?” he roared.
“No!” Her heart was slamming in her chest. “Not poisoned. I swear! It’s drugged. To induce sleep. We were going to take coins from you and your men. We wouldn’t have taken everything. We would have left you some.” She was oh so careful not to let on that she knew of the captured wealth on hand.
“So you came here to steal.” His expression was fierce. “Why let me fuck you? Because you couldn’t get me to drink the wine beforehand?”
She crossed her arms, feeling chilled by his anger. Once again she found herself longing for his previous warm manner. “I’ll admit I didn’t come here with the intention of
It left her unbalanced, bewildered. Lost. Just as she felt now. How pathetic was she?
She couldn’t accept her sister’s demise. She couldn’t remain detached, even remotely, in her enemy’s arms. And she hadn’t fooled Jules into believing she was sexually experienced either.
He’d realized the truth.
Sabine sat up and slipped her chemise back on, her hands shaky.
He jerked her chin up, startling her. He was down on his haunches, clearly furious. “You lied to me,” he growled. “Why did you pretend you were experienced? What game are you playing?”
Her own emotions erupted. She shoved his hand away. “Game? This is no game.” She shot to her feet. Turning away from him, she took a few steps, needing space and time to collect herself. Needing to shut him out and the devastating effect he’d had on her.
She pulled on her skirt, becoming frustrated with her fumbling fingers as they bumbled with the fastenings.
Collect yourself!
From the way he was behaving, she was going to have to provide answers. She was going to have to think of something believable that would satisfy him—at a time when she felt too unraveled to think clearly. She’d already paid a price for her plan with her lost innocence.
She couldn’t let him cast her out now.
He grasped her arm and spun her around to face him. “Why. Did. You. Do. This?”
She laughed and blinked away more tears she refused to shed. Being Elise was exhausting. Consuming. And she was beginning to despise her.
“Why?” she repeated. “Are you that much of a fool? Why would any woman profess to be a whore and enter a men’s camp if not because she was desperate .”
“My patience is running out. Speak plainly!” he barked. “And your words this time had better be the absolute truth .”
The stone-cold look in his eyes sent a shiver of dread through her. Fury was coming off him in waves. She found herself mourning the loss of his smile, his heated looks. And she hated it that she did. She felt defeated. She’d lost the battle. Yet she had no choice but to fight on.
She still had to steal his captured prize.
But Jules de Moutier was not a man to be trifled with. This former officer of the King’s Navy was a veteran in battle, skilled at weapons, with a small army of armed men at hand under his command.
She had only her two younger cousins and desperation arming her.
“I didn’t wish to deceive you. I didn’t think you would want me if you knew I was a . . . virgin.”
“You are correct there! Who are you?”
Lying was much like acting. You had to put on a believable performance. And the most convincing lies incorporated as much of the truth as you could allow.
“My name is Elise Marquette.” The false name slipped past her lips. “I couldn’t have you turn me away. I’m desperate for funds. What else was there for me to do?”
Mistrust was clearly readable in his eyes. “You have the wine. You could have sold it for coin,” he said tightly.
He’d cornered her. What she was about to admit to was a risky tactic to take, but she was out of options. He didn’t look as though he’d let her skirt around the subject of the wine. God help them . . . “I couldn’t. The—The wine is . . . tainted.”
“You poisoned the wine?” he roared.
“No!” Her heart was slamming in her chest. “Not poisoned. I swear! It’s drugged. To induce sleep. We were going to take coins from you and your men. We wouldn’t have taken everything. We would have left you some.” She was oh so careful not to let on that she knew of the captured wealth on hand.
“So you came here to steal.” His expression was fierce. “Why let me fuck you? Because you couldn’t get me to drink the wine beforehand?”
She crossed her arms, feeling chilled by his anger. Once again she found herself longing for his previous warm manner. “I’ll admit I didn’t come here with the intention of
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