you the courage to play the wounded bird, ma petite ?” He sat beside her on the edge of the bed and regarded her with solemn and worried eyes.
She considered that for a moment. “Play bait while you wait for him to move in? It sounds like the best plan to me—it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that, and I’m not exactly helpless, you know,” she replied, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers.
“I think you have finally proved that to me tonight!” There was a hint of laughter in his eyes again, as well as chagrin. “I shall never again make the mistake of thinking you to he a fragile flower. Bien. Is tomorrow night too soon for you?”
“Tonight wouldn’t be too soon,” she stated flatly.
“Except that he has already gone to lair, having fed twice.” He took one of her hands, freeing it from the lock of hair she had twisted about it. “No, we rest—I know where he is to be found, and tomorrow night we face him at full strength.” Abruptly he grinned. “ Cherie, I have read one of your books—”
She winced, and closed her eyes in a grimace. “Oh Lord—I was afraid you’d ferret out one of my pseudonyms. You’re as bad as the Elephant’s Child when it comes to ‘satiable curiosity.’ ”
“It was hardly difficult to guess the author when she used one of my favorite expressions for the title—and then described me so very intimately not three pages from the beginning.”
Her expression was woeful. “Oh no! Not that one!”
He shook an admonishing finger at her. “I do not think it kind to make me the villain, and all because I told you I spent a good deal of the Regency in London.”
“But—but—Andre, these things follow formulas, I didn’t really have a choice—anybody French in a Regency romance has to be either an expatriate aristocrat or a villain—” She bit her lip and looked pleadingly at him. “—I needed a villain and I didn’t have a clue—I was in the middle of that phony medium thing and I had a deadline—and—” Her words thinned down to a whisper, “—to tell you the truth, I didn’t think you’d ever find out. You—you aren’t angry, are you?”
He lifted the hair away from her shoulder, cupped his hand beneath her chin and moved close beside her. “I think I may possibly be induced to forgive you—”
The near-chuckle in his voice told her she hadn’t offended him. Reassured by that, she looked up at him, slyly. “Oh?”
“You could—” He slid her gown off her shoulder a little, and ran an inquisitive finger from the tip of her shoulder blade to just behind her ear “—write another, and let me play the hero—”
“Have you any—suggestions?” she replied, finding it difficult to reply when his mouth followed where his finger had been.
“In that ‘Burning Passions’ series, perhaps?”
She pushed him away, laughing. “The soft-core porn for housewives? Andre, you can’t be serious!”
“Never more,” he pulled her back. “Think of how enjoyable the research would be—”
She grabbed his hand again before it could resume its explorations. “Aren’t we supposed to be resting?”
He stopped for a moment, and his face and eyes were deadly serious. “ Cherie, we must face this thing at strength. You need sleep—and to relax. Can you think of any better way to relax body and spirit than—”
“No,” she admitted. “I always sleep like a rock when you get done with me.”
“Well then. And I—I have needs; I have not tended to those needs for too long, if I am to have full strength, and I should not care to meet this creature at less than that.”
“Excuses, excuses—” She briefly contemplated getting up long enough to take care of the lights—then decided a little waste of energy was worth it, and extinguished them with a thought. “C’mere, you—let’s do some research.”
He laughed deep in his throat as they reached for one another with the same eager hunger.
She woke late the next
She considered that for a moment. “Play bait while you wait for him to move in? It sounds like the best plan to me—it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that, and I’m not exactly helpless, you know,” she replied, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers.
“I think you have finally proved that to me tonight!” There was a hint of laughter in his eyes again, as well as chagrin. “I shall never again make the mistake of thinking you to he a fragile flower. Bien. Is tomorrow night too soon for you?”
“Tonight wouldn’t be too soon,” she stated flatly.
“Except that he has already gone to lair, having fed twice.” He took one of her hands, freeing it from the lock of hair she had twisted about it. “No, we rest—I know where he is to be found, and tomorrow night we face him at full strength.” Abruptly he grinned. “ Cherie, I have read one of your books—”
She winced, and closed her eyes in a grimace. “Oh Lord—I was afraid you’d ferret out one of my pseudonyms. You’re as bad as the Elephant’s Child when it comes to ‘satiable curiosity.’ ”
“It was hardly difficult to guess the author when she used one of my favorite expressions for the title—and then described me so very intimately not three pages from the beginning.”
Her expression was woeful. “Oh no! Not that one!”
He shook an admonishing finger at her. “I do not think it kind to make me the villain, and all because I told you I spent a good deal of the Regency in London.”
“But—but—Andre, these things follow formulas, I didn’t really have a choice—anybody French in a Regency romance has to be either an expatriate aristocrat or a villain—” She bit her lip and looked pleadingly at him. “—I needed a villain and I didn’t have a clue—I was in the middle of that phony medium thing and I had a deadline—and—” Her words thinned down to a whisper, “—to tell you the truth, I didn’t think you’d ever find out. You—you aren’t angry, are you?”
He lifted the hair away from her shoulder, cupped his hand beneath her chin and moved close beside her. “I think I may possibly be induced to forgive you—”
The near-chuckle in his voice told her she hadn’t offended him. Reassured by that, she looked up at him, slyly. “Oh?”
“You could—” He slid her gown off her shoulder a little, and ran an inquisitive finger from the tip of her shoulder blade to just behind her ear “—write another, and let me play the hero—”
“Have you any—suggestions?” she replied, finding it difficult to reply when his mouth followed where his finger had been.
“In that ‘Burning Passions’ series, perhaps?”
She pushed him away, laughing. “The soft-core porn for housewives? Andre, you can’t be serious!”
“Never more,” he pulled her back. “Think of how enjoyable the research would be—”
She grabbed his hand again before it could resume its explorations. “Aren’t we supposed to be resting?”
He stopped for a moment, and his face and eyes were deadly serious. “ Cherie, we must face this thing at strength. You need sleep—and to relax. Can you think of any better way to relax body and spirit than—”
“No,” she admitted. “I always sleep like a rock when you get done with me.”
“Well then. And I—I have needs; I have not tended to those needs for too long, if I am to have full strength, and I should not care to meet this creature at less than that.”
“Excuses, excuses—” She briefly contemplated getting up long enough to take care of the lights—then decided a little waste of energy was worth it, and extinguished them with a thought. “C’mere, you—let’s do some research.”
He laughed deep in his throat as they reached for one another with the same eager hunger.
She woke late the next
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