Bride for a Night(110)

“What do you intend to do?”

“For now I shall return to Paris.”

“Will you resume your career on the stage?”

“Perhaps.”

He came to an abrupt halt, a scowl marring his brow. “Do you have a gentleman awaiting you?”

Sophia was gracefully on her feet again, moving to the armoire to take out the last of her gowns.

“There are always gentlemen.”

Sheer fury at the thought of her going from his arms to another man seared through him.

It did not matter that she was a courtesan. Or that he had barely acknowledged her presence since bringing Talia to France. She was…a part of his life. And she had no right to leave him.

“Sophia, quit this foolishness,” he snapped as she dumped the dresses atop the pile in her bag.

“What foolishness?” She refused to glance in his direction. “Leaving you?”

He waved aside the blunt question. “It is too late to travel to Paris tonight.”

“Then I will leave at first light.”

“Non.”

Now she did lift her head to look at him, her expression hard as she met his frustrated gaze.

“The decision is not yours to make, Jacques.”

With three long strides he had his hands clenched around her upper arms.

“You are mine to protect.”

Her dark eyes flashed a brazen challenge at his possessive tone.

“Protect me from what?”

“Napoleon has attempted to bring order to the masses, but we both know that his efforts are not always successful.” He latched onto the first thought that came to mind. “With so many soldiers roaming the streets a woman on her own is always at risk.”

She appeared unimpressed with his logic. “The streets of Paris have never been safe, chérie, which I discovered at a very young age.” The edge in her voice hinted at the high cost of her survival. “Thankfully, I am no fragile flower. Unlike your precious Talia, I have learned how to depend upon my own wits.”

Jacques was wise enough not to inform his mistress that Talia had proven she was more than capable of depending upon her wits. Instead he shifted his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing the sensuous curve of her bottom lip.


“I do not doubt your ability to fend for yourself, Sophia, only the need to do so,” he gently corrected. “You will always have a place in my home.”

“As your mistress?”

“As my…” He hesitated, irritated by her refusal to simply accept his offer of protection. What did she want from him? “As my friend.”

Without warning she yanked herself from his grip, the candlelight shimmering off the hint of fire in her dark curls.

“You might wish to discuss my position in your household with Talia,” she retorted in biting tones. “There are few women who would desire a previous lover beneath her roof.”

“I have more than one home. You may choose to live wherever you please.”

His reasonable suggestion was met with a furious hiss as Sophia turned to slam down the lid of her case.

“Ah, a female for every establishment,” she taunted. “How terribly convenient for you.”

His own temper flared. Was he not doing everything in his power to ensure she was kept in luxury when any other gentleman would have tossed her into the street after he’d finished with her? She should be showering him with gratitude, not hissing at him like a wounded cat.

“You are deliberately attempting to misunderstand me,” he charged.