Fiery Tales: Undone Part 21

In a hut near the mill on the west side of the island, Simon tilted his head back against his chair and closed his eyes, the horrific images of Angelica's attack torturing his mind.

Even though he hadn't slept all night, he was too distraught to feel fatigue.

He'd spent the night trying to wrestle down his rage-the broken chair he'd smashed against the wall proof of his violent mood.

He shoved the drawings of the mill and his accounting ledgers off the desk and onto the floor with a growl. Distracting his agitated mind with work had proved fruitless. He'd made so many blunders at her expense. Certainly, he shouldn't have left her in such a vulnerable state after she'd finally revealed her past to him.

He glanced at the door and rose. It was dawn.

Perhaps he would check to see how she was.

He let out a sharp breath, and set his palms down on the desk. If he spoke to her now or any time soon, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from drawing her into his arms. Given the intense attraction between them, he knew exactly where that would lead.

And he was intent on keeping his rude hands off her.

His gut had told him she was an innocent, yet that hadn't stopped him from unleashing his desire. But...Dieu, just because her lecherous stepfather had violated her, was she never to know a man's touch? Never to know how wonderful s.e.x could be?

He shoved himself off the desk and began to pace.

But he shouldn't be the man to show her. She was a n.o.ble. He was not.

A n.o.ble. He'd suspected it. Feared it. Where could this possibly go? His life was complicated and layered. He had nothing to offer her but physical encounters, and she should find that in a marriage bed with her husband. Her n.o.ble husband. He tamped down the pang of regret that notion caused.

He had to extricate himself from Fouquet's hold-without having every man under his command arrested and executed. There were also the island's financial stability and safety to maintain. In short, people depended on him. He needed a clear head, and yet when Angelica was around, all he wanted was to touch her, take her.

And that was the last thing either of them needed.

There were two things he could do for her.

First, stay away. Second, when he returned to France, hunt down the man who'd taken so much from her.

And make him pay. Dearly.

Chapter Sixteen.

She had not broken.

Although Simon's silence had stabbed her through the heart, she refused to curl up and die.

Angelica walked up to the crowd in the square and glanced around, unable to locate her friends in the throng. The island's springtime celebration was underway. She'd prepared tomorrow's teaching lessons, promising Suzette to return later when the music began-purposely hoping to avoid being ensnared in the games or compet.i.tions held during the afternoon for which she was in no mood.

During the last two weeks, she'd completely immersed herself in her teaching position. She'd forgotten just how much satisfaction she derived from teaching children. She adored her students and had taken it upon herself to encourage the girls to attend too. In two short weeks, her little school population had grown by six.

A sudden roar of laughter from the crowd broke through her thoughts. She scanned about again.

Simon would be here soon. Good. For she was going to confront him.

Today.

Though they shared the same roof, since revealing her past to him weeks ago, she'd barely seen him. He spent most of his time on the opposite side of the island and was rarely home.

On the few occasions they'd encountered each other at the door, they had exchanged customary pleasantries, and he'd politely inquired about how she was finding her new position. Although courteous, he'd been brief and eager to part company.

Revealing her secret to him had done exactly what she'd feared it would do. It had driven him away. Didn't he realize what it had taken for her to expose herself to him so completely?

Well, she was not going to allow him to avoid her any longer.

She wasn't going to permit him to hide his true feelings behind a pleasant mask. He was repulsed by her past. By her. So be it. But she wanted to hear him say it-to her face.

How could she have been so wrong about him? Why wasn't he able to offer her the acceptance she'd craved from him? Since the night she'd told him the truth, she'd dealt with feelings of betrayal, pain.

She was not going to punish herself or be a victim any longer.

Not to her stepfather. And certainly not to Simon. She'd come out of this experience stronger. She'd even found the courage to tell Gabriella and Suzette everything. They, unlike Simon, had offered her genuine comfort and understanding.

Simon had asked for the truth. Now he had it, and she was going to force him to deal with it. To deal with her. This very day.

Just as old Benjamin stepped up onto the makeshift stage and was about to make an announcement, she heard the gallop of horses approaching. Loud cheers rose from the throng.

Simon, Jules, Armand, and Domenico had arrived.

On his mount, Simon appeared every bit the commander he was. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black breeches, he looked so good it hurt.

The moment he dismounted, young lads hurried forward for the privilege of attending to his horse.

"Good sirs, welcome!" Old Benjamin said with a theatric flare. "You have arrived just in time for our final compet.i.tion. The bachelors' compet.i.tion!" His booming voice set the crowd cheering anew, with much more enthusiasm from the females for the newly arrived men.

"I believe, Captain, that you and Monsieur Armand are still bachelors, no?" Benjamin inquired, grinning at the crowd's deafening jubilation.

Angelica watched Simon and Armand smile good-naturedly.

"We are," Simon responded. A distinctly female cheer rose from the ma.s.s. Angelica tried to ignore how much their enthusiastic interest bothered her.

"Well, dear ladies, do you not agree that they should enter the final contest?" Again a female cheer emphatically concurred.

Before Simon and Armand could comment, Benjamin pressed on. "The prize for the winner is a kiss from the most comely mademoiselle on the island." Jubilant cheers a.s.sailed Angelica's ears. "She was selected by the bachelors, Captain, voted upon just prior to the commencement of the celebration. When asked which fair maiden they would most like to kiss, you will be surprised to know this year's fair mademoiselle is someone who has never been selected before..." Excited murmurs from female hopefuls tore through the group.

Benjamin continued, "Good people, this year's selection is a young woman who is the overwhelming favorite choice among our young men!"

This time, it was the young men's turn to cheer.

Suzette suddenly squeezed Angelica's arm, startling her. "Oh, let it be me. Paul is entered in the contest!" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if he won, and I was the selected mademoiselle, Angelica? Just think, a kiss from Paul!"

"Before we announce this fair maiden's name, you must agree to join in the compet.i.tion, Captain," said Benjamin.

The crowd was whipped into a frenzy. Simon chuckled and held up his hand to silence the overwhelming ovation. "Very well. I agree to join."

Her stomach dropped. If he won, she was not going to watch him kiss another.

Angelica turned, intending to leave the compet.i.tion and return later, but the crowd around her was large. She was trapped within the enthusiastic ma.s.s.

Benjamin's grin was from ear to ear. He spread his arms out wide with great flair. "Excellent! And now, our most popular mademoiselle..." He gave a bow. Then, lifting his head, he darted his eyes back and forth slyly. "Do you wish her name now? Or after the knife-throwing compet.i.tion is complete?"

"NOW!" the crowd roared.

Benjamin straightened and smoothed his shirt. "Well then, the good people have spoken, and with your permission, Captain, I shall obey."

Simon was still smiling, obviously enjoying Benjamin's antics in engaging the crowd. "Proceed, Benjamin."

"Very well. Our mademoiselle this year is...a very special woman." The people let out a collective groan of frustration. Benjamin quickly continued, realizing he'd tested the limits of their patience. "She is as kind as she is fine... Mademoiselle Angelica."

The air from Angelica's lungs expelled all at once. Her ears began to ring; the roaring crowd around her made but a distant din. She felt herself being pushed forward. Faintly, she heard Suzette's enthusiastic words, "It's you! It's you!"

Somehow, she found herself in front of the wooden stage.

"Come, mademoiselle," Benjamin urged. Stepping down, he took her hand in his calloused one and helped her up onto the stage. "Please sit in the chair of honor!"

Her knees easily gave way as she sat down on the wooden chair adorned with flowers. The crowd before her still carried on with great zeal. Someone placed a ring of flowers on her head.

She met Simon's gaze. He no longer smiled.

"What say you, Monsieur Armand?" Benjamin asked. "Would you like to join in the compet.i.tion? Would you care for a kiss from the beautiful mademoiselle?"

Simon gave Armand a sharp look.

All traces of the smile he'd been sporting instantly disappeared from Armand's face.

He cleared his throat. "I...um, a kiss from the mademoiselle would be wonderful indeed..." Male hoots filled the air. Armand shifted his weight, avoiding Simon's murderous glare as he waited for the noise to die down. "But I must respectfully decline. My arm has been rather sore..." He rubbed it to underscore his statement.

"As you wish. Without further ado, gentlemen..."

"Wait!" Claudine called out. "Do we not need the mademoiselle's full name? I mean, really, the woman surely must have had parents. Even orphans have more than just a Christian name."

There were a few giggles from the women in the crowd near Claudine. She shot Angelica a glare. Anger p.r.i.c.kled Angelica's skin.

"I cannot see why that's relevant," Sabine said in her defense.

"Every year we record the winners of the compet.i.tions as well as the chosen mademoiselle," Claudine said. "I'm simply trying to give the woman the opportunity to have her name properly recorded in our feast celebration book. What, Mademoiselle Angelica, is the big mystery about your name?"

A murmur shot through the crowd.

Angelica stood up. "No mystery here. I thank you for your concern. For the record, my name is"-Angelica looked Simon in the eye-"Angelica de Castel, daughter of the late Comte and Comtesse de Beaulieu."

She saw surprise flicker in Simon's eyes. He hadn't expected her to do it.

"A n.o.ble," tore through the crowd.

"Well, well, what a treat!" said Benjamin enthusiastically. "We've never had a n.o.ble take this honor before. Think of the fierce compet.i.tion to kiss a lady."

Male cheers rose up. Angelica gave Simon a satisfied smile and sat down on her throne. Yet, she didn't feel satisfied in the least. Being this close to him caused a sense of longing to crowd in on her anger. She wrestled it back.

"To the targets, sirs!" Benjamin exclaimed.

The people moved from the front of the stage to the opposite side of the square, allowing Angelica a prime view from her chair. Four posts had been driven into the ground, with painted targets affixed to them.

The men began to line up in four rows a distance from the targets.

Simon had yet to move from his spot. Those walking past him wished him good luck, but he remained where he stood with his gaze fixed on her as he murmured his responses. Her heart galloped. She refused to show her unease. They'd both been coaxed into this ridiculous situation. What was he going to do? Win? Or lose on purpose so as to avoid having to kiss her?

"Mademoiselle?"

Angelica tore her gaze from Simon and noticed a tall young man standing before her. A grin slowly spread wide across his face. His gaze swept over her in an open perusal that shocked her.

"My name is Anton, mademoiselle. I'm the man who'll win this contest. And your kiss. I look forward to seeing if there is a difference between the lips of a highborn lady and a common wench. Either way"-his gaze dropped to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then slowly moved back to her eyes-"I'll have you wanting more." He chuckled and swaggered away.

Oh, perfect. Were matters not bad enough?

When Anton walked by Simon, he said, "Good luck, Captain," with the same arrogant smile and continued on his way.

Simon had heard every word Anton said to her, she was sure of it. He gave her one last look before he turned to join the others for the contest.

Each man was given three knives to toss on each of their three turns at the targets. Each attempt earned points.

With her heart in her throat, she watched the compet.i.tion. Those with the greatest skill were Simon's crewmen. Seasoned sea-warriors trained to wield weapons with deadly accuracy were easily distinguishable from the rest.

She was going to have to kiss one of them. She wanted to kiss only one specific man among them. The one man in the compet.i.tion who didn't wish to kiss her.

"Simon has stiff compet.i.tion," Jules said as he and Sabine stepped up onto the stage. "Anton never loses in knives." Angelica felt ill.

Sabine patted Angelica's shoulder. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, it's only a kiss. Over quickly."

None of this was helping to relax the knots in her stomach.

Simon didn't smile or blow her a kiss as some of the others did. He stared straight ahead, his tall, muscled form turned away from her, never glancing her way, concentrating on the targets. She watched as he hit the center target on his first two turns. A perfect score. He hadn't missed once in all six knives. Did he want to win? Of course he does, you fool. He didn't want to lose face before his men. His desire to win was strictly motivated by male pride.

A loud "ahhhhh" jolted her from her musings. Anton was on his final turn and had, for the first time, missed the center circle. He picked up his final knife. Undaunted, he smiled at her and kissed the blade. Turning, he tossed it and sank it directly into the center of the target. The people cheered.

"Well done, Anton!" Benjamin applauded. "Captain, you are the last compet.i.tor, and your final turn is at hand. Anton has the highest number of points. You'll need no less than a perfect score to beat his outstanding performance."

Perched on the edge of her chair, she couldn't take much more of this, not wanting either to win-for very different reasons. Her heart pounded so hard it resonated inside her ears.

Confidently, Anton looked on.