The Caged Countess. Joanna Fulford
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In spite of her protests, Duval threw open the door and drew her with him along the passage towards the staircase. Madame Renaud was waiting on the landing. She started to speak but the words were drowned out by heavy fists pounding on the door below. Then a man’s voice called out.
‘Police! Open up!’
Before anyone could say more they heard the unmistakeable order echoed from the rear of the premises. Claudine’s stomach lurched. Duval swore softly. Then he looked at Madame Renaud.
‘Is there another way out of here?’
Madame shook her head. The banging on the door intensified. She leaned over the balustrade and called softly to the flunky below.
‘Wait another minute and then open it, Raoul.’ Then she turned back to her companions. ‘Come with me. Quickly.’
They needed no urging and moments later found themselves back in the room they had so recently vacated. Claudine looked round in bewilderment. The only way out was the window but they were on the first floor. Even if they weren’t seen by those outside, such a leap meant a broken leg at the very least. It was crazy. She saw Madame look at Duval and knew that some silent message had been passed and understood.
‘What?’ she demanded.
‘Take your clothes off and get into bed,’ he replied.
Madame nodded. ‘I’ll delay them as long as I can.’
With that she was gone.
Chapter Two
Claudine stared after her in stunned disbelief. Then she turned to speak to her companion but the words died on her lips for he had already thrown aside his cloak and was shrugging himself out of his coat.
She regarded him coldly. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Come on. We haven’t much time.’
‘If you imagine I’m going to …’
He paused, fixing her with a fierce glare. ‘You have a better plan?’
‘Well no, but …’
‘Then do it or, by heaven, I will! This tardiness is like to get us killed.’
She knew he was right but that didn’t make things any easier. She had never undressed in front of a man in her life. Reluctantly she unfastened her cloak and let it fall.
Seeing her comply, Duval continued undressing; coat and cravat joined his cloak and he sat down on the bed and began to tug off his boots. From below came the sound of raised voices. The police were in the hallway. Claudine fumbled with the fastenings of her gown. Her companion tossed his boots aside and dragged off his shirt. She had a swift impression of a hard-muscled torso and savage scars down the left arm and shoulder, and then looked hurriedly away resuming her struggle with the buttons.
Duval sighed. In two strides he was across the room. Strong hands turned her round and lifted her hair aside. In seconds the buttons were undone. Warm fingers brushed her skin as he slid the gown off her shoulders and, while she struggled out of the sleeves, unfastened the petticoat and stays beneath. It was accomplished with the smooth ease of one completely familiar with women’s clothing. Moments later she was standing in chemise and stockings and his fingers were unfastening the pins that held her hair. Glossy curls tumbled in disarray about her shoulders.
Booted feet sounded on the stairs and she could hear Madame Renaud’s angry protests. Then a man’s voice barked orders.
‘Search every room! The woman’s here somewhere.’
Claudine’s heart thumped painfully hard. It was her they meant. Alain must have talked. The poor man would have had no choice. She could only imagine what methods had been employed to break him. If they caught her she could expect the same. For a moment cold terror replaced rational thought. Her companion crossed to the bed and pulled back the coverlets.
‘Get in.’
Dumbly she obeyed, sliding across the chilly sheets to the far side. As she pulled the covers over herself Duval saw the soft gleam of metal on her hand and, for the first time, noticed her wedding band. He frowned.
‘Take off the ring.’
She struggled for a moment or two and then shook her head. ‘It’s too tight.’
‘Then keep your hand out of sight.’
Swiftly he drew the bed curtains closed and then came to join her. Outside, the booted feet came closer, punctuated at intervals by feminine screams and male oaths. Claudine shivered. He felt it.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he murmured. ‘Just play your part and say as little as possible.’
Inwardly he wondered how long her nerve would hold. Alain had said she was a skilled operative but, just then, Duval was far from convinced.
The darkness inside the curtained bed made it impossible for him to see her face, a circumstance for which Claudine was devoutly thankful. His words, though kindly meant, demonstrated clearly what he thought her to be. It was all of a piece with his casual assumption that she would have no objection to their physical intimacy. Then all reflection was driven from her mind by the hands gathering up the fabric of her shift. Instinctively she reached to stop him.
‘No.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘If this is to be credible you must take it off.’
Another door crashed open, nearer this time, to be followed by more angry voices.
Claudine took a deep breath. ‘All right, damn it.’
Hurriedly she struggled out of the chemise. He grabbed it and flung it aside. The immediacy of the cool linen sheet against her skin raised goose bumps along her arms and intensified the feeling of vulnerability. Never in her life had she been so glad of the darkness which hid her face. Then the mattress shifted under his weight and a lean hard body pressed the length of hers. Strong arms drew her closer, sharing his warmth. The musky scent of his skin sent a tremor through her that was nothing to do with their present peril. She could feel his breath against her neck and then the soft pressure of his lips. The skin seemed to burn where they touched.
‘Kiss me.’
Claudine tensed. ‘What!’
‘Kiss me.’ This time the tone was a quiet command.
‘But I …’
His mouth slanted over hers cutting off protest, gentle at first, then gradually becoming more insistent, ignoring resistance. Slowly, gently, his hands began their own exploration, their touch sending a wave of flaring warmth down the length of her. Gradually, of its own volition, her body relaxed a little and her mouth opened beneath his. His tongue teased hers. She knew it was wrong to be doing this and it should have been repellent; instead it shocked and excited.
As he felt her yield to the kiss Duval felt a familiar tightening sensation in his gut. Her body was exquisite, made for a man’s touch and his own responded to it with a swiftness that astonished him. He didn’t have to pretend. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her. She filled his senses. The din from the next room faded to background noise. Suddenly, in the dark cocoon of the bed anything was possible. His lips travelled down her neck and throat to her breast, gently sucking and teasing until the nipple grew erect. He heard her gasp, felt her body quiver again. An answering heat flared in his groin. Then his mouth was over hers again, hot, ardent, seeking her response while his hands continued what they had begun.
The touch sent another flush of treacherous warmth the length of her body and triggered sensations she had never dreamed existed. An equally treacherous inner voice whispered thoughts of surrender, of submitting completely to his will, of pursuing this to