Fiery Tales: Undone Part 29

Weary, Simon sighed. "What specifically are you talking about? Don't you agree Domenico should stay behind this time?"

Jules frowned. "Of course, I agree. I'm happy to make this voyage, to command one of the ships returning to France. Sabine agrees with the decision as well."

"I'm delighted to hear your wife approves of my selections. Mind getting to the point?"

"My point is Angelica. Sabine tells me of this insane decision to take her back."

"This is none of your concern. Leave it alone."

"You are my concern. As your friend, I cannot watch you do this and remain silent. I watched you at the feast after the bachelors' compet.i.tion. I saw you the next morning too. I've never seen you look so happy. Any fool can see how much you love her."

The words sliced through Simon like cold steel, opening the gaping gash inside him a little more.

"You are mad," Simon forced out. "And you are acting as though my intentions toward her are ill. I plan to take her back, restore her estate, her standing, and take revenge on the man who...stole it from her in the first place."

"But it is not what she wants."

"Once she is in France and has reclaimed her rightful place in society, she will feel differently."

"You jest!" Jules shook his head. "Simon, you are the most stubborn... Just because n.o.bility has meant everything to you, does not mean that it means everything to everyone. Forget this nonsense and marry her."

"You have gone mad." Simon quickly tossed back the remainder of the brandy from his goblet and filled it again, desperately wishing it would quell his emotions. d.a.m.n Jules. Why was he putting him through this?

"You love her."

Jules's words sent a painful jolt through him. Simon slammed down his goblet on the desk, the liquid sloshing out. "Enough!"

Jules set his palms on Simon's desk and leaned forward. "Look me in the eye and tell me she's no more than a good f.u.c.k."

Simon rose to his feet. Through clenched teeth he growled, "I'm warning you."

"She loves you."

Simon shook his head, shutting his heart and ears to those words. "She will gain back all that she has lost, all the advantages of her birth. She will then be able to marry someone of her own social station. It is the right thing to do." He fought back the misery, trying to ignore how each word cut into him.

"Merde! Ask her. Before you make the decision to give her up, ask her if she loves you."

He couldn't do it. If she told him she loved him, he doubted he would have the strength to walk away. If she said that she did not, it would be too painful to bear.

"Ask her to marry you, and you will see the truth of my words."

"Jesus-Christ, Jules. Marry the daughter of a count to the son of a fisherman? Would you have her entire ancestry turn in their graves?"

Jules straightened and let out a frustrated sigh. "You may not be a n.o.ble, but you are a rich man. You can provide for her as well as any Aristo."

"Only you and Robert know that I have chased after betterment. That dream is over. I must accept that I'm a commoner and shall remain that way. She deserves better. You of all people should understand, Jules. You were born an Aristo and then you were stripped of it. How did it feel to be nothing? Would you have me do that to her? Take away her n.o.bility by marrying her?"

"Yes, I felt worthless once, and it was you who gave me the opportunity to change my life. Then I met Sabine. Now, when I look into her eyes, and I see her love for me, I feel greater than the king. Look into the eyes of your highborn lady and see that she adores you. Allow her to decide which she wishes to lose-you or social standing."

"I will not diminish her in anyway. I do not wish to marry her." Another sharp pain wrenched inside him. G.o.d help him, he was resolved to reject Jules's words at all cost, especially when Simon knew he couldn't keep her.

"Oh no, you wish it," Jules countered, "and you will wish it with each and every piece of your shattered heart, and on your final day, with your final breath, you will die still in want of it."

"This conversation is over." Simon started toward the door. Jules grabbed his arm.

"You feel unworthy of her because you are carrying Fouquet's sins on your soul. You didn't harm those people; he did. As for Thomas, he took a risk because-"

"-of me!"

"No! Because he wanted more too. He wanted bigger and better things out of life. He wouldn't want you to bear any guilt over his death. If you must have n.o.bility before you will marry Angelica, then go to France and get it. Demand it from the king."

"The war is over, Jules. Haven't you heard?" Simon asked caustically. "There isn't a demand for naval officers at the moment. Besides, I want no part of captures and battle any longer. The realm is at peace, and I will return the warships and provide the king's share of the silver from La Estella Blanco-to Louis personally. There are important matters I must speak to him about. While I'm in France, I not only plan to help Angelica but also to destroy Fouquet."

"You are going to destroy Nicolas Fouquet? Have you received a blow to the head recently? Couldn't you simply get over your guilt and bargain the island to Louis to gain n.o.bility and perhaps a t.i.tle?"

"It's time to send the devil to h.e.l.l so that he can stop imposing it on others. As for Marguerite, France isn't interested in the islands here, and it's a good thing. I wouldn't bargain Marguerite away and place it under royal control. I don't want to see royal governors here ruling these people, creating the civil unrest and other problems that have occurred on the other French islands. That's the last thing these people deserve. They don't need oppressive lords."

Besides, there was no guarantee that Louis would enn.o.ble him, no matter what he did.

"Fine. However, Louis is taking a more active role in his kingdom now. You have a sharp mind, Simon. I've seen you outwit the enemy in battle countless times. Now a new challenge lies before you. Convince the king, obtain your letters of n.o.bility, and claim your prize-a beautiful woman who will bring you joy into your old age."

Dieu, Jules made it sound so simple, yet it was not. Simon couldn't bring himself to claim "the prize." Not her. If she knew the extent of what he'd done while he'd chased his ambitions, she'd turn away from him, horrified.

The battle she'd witnessed was but a small sampling.

He was willing to risk everything to unseat Fouquet. He was willing to risk everything to regain Angelica her stolen life and make her stepfather pay, but he wasn't willing to dishonor her by marrying her as a commoner.

"I cannot marry her," he said, each word agony.

"Then you have condemned yourself to a life devoid of any true happiness."

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Simon watched Angelica as she stood on deck gazing out at the sea long after the sh.o.r.es of Marguerite had disappeared from view.

If she had shed a tear, he hadn't seen it. She'd walked through the saddened crowd on the beach, accepting flowers and good-byes from them with composure, grace, and a strength he admired-and drew from, to aid his flagging strength. She'd consoled others with quiet fort.i.tude, and it destroyed him a little further to see her step foot onto the tender, leaving the sh.o.r.es of Marguerite.

Simon walked across the deck and slipped his arms around her waist. "Are you all right?"

She turned in his arms to face him. "As all right as you, it would seem." Dieu, he felt miserable, but he hadn't meant for her to see it.

He looked out at the sea, remaining silent.

"Tell me, Simon, do you truly wish for what we have to end?"

"No." He couldn't lie to her. "But it has to." He forced out the words.

"What would you do if I were not a n.o.ble?"

He refused to dwell on what-ifs. It was too difficult. "You are, and that is reality."

Regardless of the men working on the deck, she rose up onto the b.a.l.l.s of her feet and pressed her warm mouth to his, kissing him softly on the lips. "Reality is what you make it," she said. "This voyage will last several weeks. Within that time, I hope you'll see that our reality is one worth holding on to."

"It is the reality of our situation that makes it impossible to hold on."

She studied him with those extraordinary eyes. "No. It is you alone who make it impossible," she countered. "If by the time we reach the sh.o.r.es of France you haven't changed your mind about this, then the reality is that you-not society's rules-have forced an end to what we have, and what could have been."

She stepped around him and walked toward his cabin.

Simon squeezed the wooden rail with a white-knuckle grip. He had no idea when the precise moment had occurred, when exactly she'd slipped pa.s.sed his defenses and reached his heart. When had he made himself so vulnerable to her that she had an impact of this magnitude on him?

He turned and marched to his cabin.

Wrenching the door open, he stepped in and slammed it shut. She turned to face him, not appearing surprised to see him in the least. For some reason, this angered him further.

"Do you really wish to become one of the 'undesirables'?" he demanded. "Are you eager to bear children-sired by a man of common birth-that n.o.bles would consider as revolting as a rodent? Do you want to always be at the mercy of your 'betters' and have them treat you and your children as less than human each time you're in their presence? That's the life of a commoner! That is what I, my mother, and everyone in our village endured. Do you want to marry me and have half the Aristos look at you with pity while the rest regard you with disgust?"

She crossed her arms. "Was that a marriage proposal?"

"What? No!"

"Good, because it wasn't a very good one, the way you were carrying on about rodents and disgust."

He glared at her. "This is no joking matter."

She walked up to him. "As you can tell, I am not laughing. I don't care what n.o.bles think. Pleasing them does not give me joy. You do. Simon, I love-"

He covered her mouth with his hand in an instant. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers. "Please, don't. Do not say anything more."

He had to tell her what he'd done. He'd hoped that they could have simply had a few wonderful weeks together, but she had to know before she said any more to him. Perversely, a small part of him wanted her disdain, for it might help him to sh.o.r.e up his resolve and do right by her.

Removing his hand, he kissed her, needing one last kiss from her willing lips before he shattered her image of him. Drawing her against him, feeling her soft form melt into him, he kept his kiss languorous and lush, enjoying the contours of her sweet lips, delighting in her response as she parted them for him, welcoming him into her mouth. But he had to refuse the invitation, knowing the folly in accepting it.

There were things to say. He didn't want to do this, but she was giving him no choice.

He broke the kiss, took a deep breath, and stepped back, away from her. "When you return to France, you'll see bodies on the ground, dead peasants, many of them children less than five years old. Gruesome scenes. Some areas far worse than others. When you see this, know that it was I who helped do that to them. Ah, your eyes widen with surprise. Well, cherie, there are things you don't know about me."

He turned away and rested his hands on his hips. "I've spent my life dreaming about being a n.o.ble. I've been so intent on attaining position, crawling out of the station of my birth, that I chased after betterment without regard for the consequences of my ambitions. I craved the respect given to n.o.bles and recognition for my naval efforts so fiercely that I closed my eyes to the cost of my quest. That price was paid by the deaths of my men and by the helpless peasants of France.

"Over the years, I became better and better at battle and capture. Countless Spaniards died at my command. The king's share of my captured prizes got a little larger each time. My contributions to the Crown treasury have been substantial. They helped a newly appointed Superintendent of Finance become highly successful, ultimately powerful, and unconscionably corrupt. While my efforts helped to make him stronger, he weakened my own kind, decimating the lower cla.s.s by taxing them into starvation. I chased a fool's dream with my eyes firmly shut until Thomas's death, until I could no longer deny what I had helped do to people who'd already suffered enough. That is when I gave up chasing after betterment."

He looked down and shook his head. "My quest for betterment cost the life of a good friend, Thomas, who, incidentally, didn't die in battle and glory as his wife was told. He was captured by the Spanish and died a horrible death by torture and dismemberment." He wanted to look at her, but he couldn't.

Instead, he lowered himself onto a chair.

Hearing her approach, he braced himself.

Reluctantly, he met her gaze. She studied him, her brows drawn together. "Are those your darkest secrets, then?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad you told me this. It proves to me just what kind of man you are."

His heart sank. "It does, does it?"

"Yes." She placed her hand under his chin. "I have seen you at your best and at your worst, and even at your very worst, you have behaved honorably." Her eyes softened. "The mere fact that you torture yourself shows you are no monster. It is but one of many factors that distinguishes you from those who are. You are distraught because bad things happened, but you are not in control of everything, even if you wish it. You didn't kill Thomas. You didn't kill the peasants. Others did. As for your men and the Spanish, there was war. You fought. You did what you had to do to survive, just like everyone else. You are punishing yourself because you wanted a better life, and you shouldn't, Simon."

Her words wrapped themselves around his heart when he didn't want them to.

Slipping onto his lap, she circled her arms around him. In his ear, she said, "If you are looking for my acceptance, you have always had it."

He was astounded.

He pushed her away to look into her eyes. "I could have done more to stop what happened to those people. I should have helped them rather than those in power."

"How? You have done more for them than the king, it would seem. The greatest sin in what you have told me is that you didn't get your dream-n.o.bility. Though it makes no difference to me whether you are a n.o.ble or not, because it is your heart's desire, I wish it for you. You deserve it. But understand this: you have sought to gain n.o.bility, but you are n.o.ble. You don't want to be ordinary, but you never have been. You wish to be exalted, but in the eyes of so many, you are."

He was speechless.

He couldn't believe she hadn't turned away from him. He'd heard similar words from Jules and Robert, but until he heard them from her, they had little effect. Her words seemed to be like a salve to his battered conscience and tormented soul. If this incredible woman could know what he'd done yet still see good in him, perhaps he could forgive himself.

"You are more than man enough for me, just as you are." She captured his mouth in a long, languid kiss.

He was undone by her. He had no idea how to resist the swelling emotions in his heart any more than he could stop the stiffening of his c.o.c.k near her soft bottom.

"Don't let this end," she whispered, her every kiss growing more urgent. Heated.

Her fingers stroked down his abdomen, the light sensation resonating through his senses. His body was instinctively responding to the arousing effect of the woman he desired. Yet his mind and heart were caught in a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings he was no longer certain how to react to.

"I want more than a few weeks, Simon. Open your heart, and tell me you want more too. Tell me before we reach France."

He needed time to think, to reason this out, but she was already pulling his shirt free, slipping her warm hands beneath it and onto his bare chest.

"Make love to me, Simon."

At least this was familiar territory for him, yet as usual, there were those softer sentiments swirling around inside him that only she inspired.

Holding her in his arms, he stood without breaking the contact of their mouths and carried her to the bed, all the while returning her kisses with heated hunger. He laid her down, then covered her with his body.

She wanted him to open his heart to her. Completely. Could he do it? What if he got rid of Fouquet and got even with her stepfather? Would that be enough to a.s.suage his guilt? What if he did as Jules suggested and made another attempt to gain his n.o.bility-for her? What if he failed again?

She writhed under him impatiently. Lowering his head, he savored the taste of her skin at the swell of her breast. He would never have his fill of her. He didn't want to.